


Goya

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Pete/everyone, a cluster of humanized songs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Pete wakes up from his drunken state, who only ends up dealing with his band's songs coming to life in the form of his best friend.





	1. Sleep Buddies and 2007 Nostalgia

"When I wake up, I'm willing to take my chances on. The hope I forget that you hate him more than you notice I wrote this for you."

 

Pete stirs from the singing, rubbing his eyes to remove the morning crust. His head pound like someone is hitting him with a sledgehammer. Pete's surprised he's under the covers unlike usual, but then he realizes there are two more figures under the sheets with him. He looks at his right, the fluff of brown hair peeking from the sheets and sees the same on his other side. Pete thinks, wow he got lucky last night, although he can't remember anything that happened.

 

"You need him. I could be him. I could be an accident but I'm still trying."

 

He sits up and stares at the one singing on the foot of the bed, back turned from him and with a guitar on hand. The messy long hair and pyjamas gives Pete some sort of nostalgia. Pete tilts his head, resting it on his hand. "Patrick?"

 

The guy turns with a timid smile on his face. "Good morning, Pete! Also, I'm not Patrick."

 

This not-Patrick looks very much like the younger version of Patrick, complete with the sideburns and the pitchy voice. Pete suddenly wants to throw up, but he swallows hard and clears his dry throat. "Uh, who are you then?"

 

Not-Patrick sets down the guitar on the ground, standing up and going beside Pete to hand the latter a glass of water and painkillers. "I'm Grand Theft Autumn. Here you go, you drank a lot last night."

 

Pete's jaw only drops, but he takes the meds and drinks the water. That can't possibly happen. Not only this Not-Patrick looks like the teenage small guy Pete adored (and still adores up until now), but he says he's the song Grand Theft Autumn.

 

"Can you tone it down? I'm sleeping here. And please, turn off the lights for me. Thanks." A voice mumbles from Pete's left side. Pete thinks it could be another Not-Patrick.

 

Then his head decides to pound again. Did he do something with these Not-Patricks--these songs-- last night?

 

Grand Theft Autumn scoffs, "It's the morning light, Gin Joints. Do you expect me to turn off the sun? Get up already."

 

"Gin Joints?" Pete echoes, his eyebrows furrowing. He doesn't understand any of this, did Patrick multiply into a bunch of songs? Because the sass is still there.

 

Gin Joints groans loudly, sitting up as well with a sleepy scowl. He still looks like Grand Theft Autumn, but the difference is that he's wearing a black top instead of light blue. He hugs the pillow he used and Pete can't help but notice there are some make up stains on it. "I'm up, I'm up. Geez, Where Is Your _fucking_ Boy, can you be grumpier."

 

"Whatever." The first Not-Patrick rolls his eyes and then smiles sweetly at Pete. "Anyway, Pete there's breakfast downstairs. I think it was bacon. G.I.N.A.S.F.S. cooked them."

 

"Oh! He makes great stuff! Though sometimes there are tears... but they're great!" Gin Joints happily points out, scooting closer to Pete and snuggling on his side. Pete wraps an arm around the former and gives him a small squeeze on the arm.

 

"Are there like... more of you around here?" Pete asks, looking at both of them. Gin Joints shrugs.

 

"The living room was crowded last night. Snitches and Mighty Fall almost tore you to pieces if not for Save Rock and Roll living up to his title and saving your cute lil ass."

 

"And you all look like Patrick, but different in personalities?"

 

"Pretty much, there are guys who dressed differently but some of us really look like the real Patrick. It's like a default thing. Like for example," Grand Theft Autumn walks to the other side of the bed and shakes the other sleeping figure awake. Pete almost forgot someone else is there. The figure makes incoherent sounds and swiftly sits up. "Here's Alone Together."

 

And boy, Grand Theft Autumn isn't lying at all. Apart from the stumped right hand, Alone Together does look a lot like the current original Patrick.

 

"Good Lord, I'm still alive." Alone Together whisper to himself, touching his face and arms to make sure it’s still him. Pete wants to snort at the stump on the song's right extremity.

 

Alone Together slowly glances at the three of them, blinking a few times. "Hi."

 

"Hello there." Pete nonchalantly waves his hand. "Are you going to check in?"

 

"Haha, very funny Pete." Alone Together reaches onto the nightstand as if to get his glasses but finds nothing in there instead. He sighs, getting up from the bed and straightens off the wrinkles on his leather jacket which is also hard to do since he only has one hand. "Guess I'll try to find where the party went. See you later, you guys."

 

"Don't stand around his second-handsmoke, you'll end up like the masochist asshole!" Grand Theft Autumn calls out to the already leaving third track.

 

"Masochist asshole?" Pete chuckles at the ridiculous name.

 

"Yeah, Irresistible."

 

Pete makes a face and lets it all sink in for a while. Basically from what he learned for the past few minutes, Fall Out Boy's songs just became a bunch of Patricks either trying to destroy him or protect him or maybe drive him into insanity.

 

Can his hangover get any worse than how it is right now?

 

Pete inches out of the bed and stretches a bit, then notices he has no shirt on. He faces the two songs, who are staring at his inked body. Pete snaps his fingers to get them out of a trance. "Yo, why am I shirtless?"

 

"Oh! I figured since you tend to sleep without a shirt on before, I took it off. Don't you worry, we didn't do anything remotely bad." Grand Theft Autumn says, his cheeks tinting a little pink.

 

"Headfirst Slide did try to trace every tattoo, though. Jesus, I can still recall that fucking creepy ass smile. Why did you have to write him as Mr. Sandman, Pete?" Gin Joints whimpers, flopping across the bed and clutches his pillow tighter.

 

"I..." Pete closes his mouth shut. He begins to think on why he had to write such monstrosities. Sure, there are songs that are remotely neutral or sad, but angry and horrific? Those are songs he doesn't want to encounter. If a song scares another, like Gin Joints with Headfirst Slide, then Pete can tell him meeting them would be very risky.

 

Maybe some of them are actually angry at Pete for writing them like that. It would be the death of him.

"What does he look like?"

 

"All black, has this creepy grin, he’s holding a staff with a hourglass, always around America's Suitehearts and the other song with a crab hand."

 

"Let me guess, America's Suitehearts is in a bright yellow suit." Pete deadpans as he finds a spare shirt from a drawer. He puts it on, looking back at the two almost identical songs, who nods gingerly, and goes to the bathroom. He hears their faint conversation.

 

"He doesn't know, does he?"

 

"As long as he's safe, it doesn't matter. They're all ready in case some of us try to lounge at him anyways. Besides, he's Pete. He's the reason why we exist."

 

"There's a high chance of him figuring this all out. Who knows, maybe Fame<Infamy gives it all away."

 

"Couldn't blame him."

 

Pete only sighs. He doesn't know what they're talking about, especially what he needs to figure out. He'll try to find Fame<Infamy later to see if that song will crack open. He washes his face to completely wake him up, maybe it's all a dream and he'll wake up any minute now. But as soon as the water hits his face, nothing changes. He's still there, standing in front of the sink staring at his reflection.

 

There's a small whimper in the bathtub. The curtains are covering the tub so all Pete can see is the shape of someone sitting in it. Pete slowly walks towards it, reaching onto the curtains then opens them in a swift motion.

 

Another Not-Patrick squeaks, hiding his face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers and when he sees it's Pete, he drops his hands to his knees. "It's you."

 

"Hi um well, from what I've seen this morning, I think you're another song. Which one are you?" Pete sits at the curve end of the bathtub while damping a towel on his wet face.

 

He's another pre-hiatus Patrick. The get up is a green hat, layers of yellow and brown tops and faded blue jeans with Converses. He averts his eyes from Pete to the wall, "Does it matter?"

 

"Of cour-"

 

"Are you in here?!" The door slams open, revealing yet another song. Pete wants to whip up a paper and pen just to jot down who's who so far. Not-Patrick #5 glares at Pete before going over to the other one sitting in the tub. "7 Minutes! I told you not to wander around without me!"

 

"I-I'm sorry. There were so many people around last night and I lost sight of you and I was scared so I hid in here." 7 Minutes In Heaven gets out of the tub to hug Not-Patrick #5. Pete wants to go 'awww', but from the looks of it, it isn't the best time.

 

"You guys are cute, but I think I'm new around here so wanna introduce yourselves?" Pete flashes a smile, which the two returns with a quick one.

 

"He's 7 Minutes In Heaven, while I for one have a long ass name Jesus Christ Pete, why the fuck, but you can call me Dark Alley." Not-Patrick #5, or now called Dark Alley, mooches. He takes 7 Minutes In Heaven by the arm and leads him away from Pete. Dark Alley looks back at him, "Living room is a mess of songs. You might wanna avoid that room before 10 in the morning. Peace."

 

Before Pete can ask anything else, they're already gone. He leaves the bathroom, passing by Grand Theft Autumn and Gin Joints, who are strumming the guitar and sleeping. Pete goes out of his room and wanders down the hallway, going over another Not-Patrick sprawled on the floor, passed out. There's no distinct feature except the black circles under his eyes, but Pete can guess he's from Infinity On High.

 

It's an instinct of his to go straight to the kitchen, so when he gets there, four Not-Patricks stare back at him. The first one has headphones on while twirling some kind of bag of coins in hand, the second one is wearing a shirt that says 'REPEAT', the third one is in a black suit as he drinks coffee and lastly, Not-Patrick #10 is in a green oversized shirt with the words 'Wentz is Whack' on it.

 

Pete blinks a few times, studying every single one of them as the four continue to stare at him. Pete takes a few steps closer, stopping by the headphones guy. "What year were you all released?"

 

"2007." The one in a black suit replies, smiling sweetly at Pete. They're from Infinity On High again.

 

 _'Of fucking course, the songs from the same album will stick together.'_ Pete says in his mind while nodding. He also realizes so far all songs he encountered are quite harmless.

 

"Who's the guy in the hallway? He might get trampled on."

 

"Ah, that's The (After) Life of the Party. Yeah, don't worry. He looks dead enough to be noticed by anyone." Black Suit says, chuckling slightly. "You want some coffee, Petey?"

 

"Uh, sure I guess." He sits down beside the one with a Wentz shirt and takes the coffee Black Suit slides to him. He hears a familiar beat coming from the song's headphones, and then it clicks to him. Coins and headphones. Well, in the song it's speakers but close enough.

 

He looks at the others, who are just literally quiet and watching Pete drink coffee. It has occurred to him that these four share the same vibe. Hopelessly in love and sadness. He isn't sure if his hunch is right, though.

 

Oversize shirt Not-Patrick places a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Pete with a small sad smile. It is decorated to make it look like a smiley, but judging from the weird placement of the bacon, it looks like this song struggled to make a smiley. Pete grins at him to cheer him up, even just a little. "Thanks."

 

"No problem, Pete." Oversize shirt sits back down on the counter. Pete begins to eat, still scanning them just to be sure if his guesses are right.

 

There's a crash from somewhere, making the one in a REPEAT shirt cover his ears. "Augh, I-I hate this. I-it's ringing so b-bad."

 

"Want to borrow my headphones? It could help." Headphones guy speaks, and Pete is surprised he's soft-spoken.

 

"No, it's f-fine. Vibrations m-make it even worse."

 

He realizes, this Not-Patrick who's bad at taking vibrations and loud noises is I've Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers. He tries not to laugh when he now connects why he has a REPEAT shirt.

 

That's two down, two to go. Well... at least in this room. There's a lot more around and Pete is scared to meet all of them.

 

Black Suit taps his hands on the table, keeping on smiling at Pete. The bassist starts to get uncomfortable about it, also because of the silence in the air. "So, any plans after this?"

 

"Well, there's not much to do around here except watch the others do their thing." Black Suit replies, eyes gleaming. He laughs a little, "You're figuring out who's who, aren't you?"

 

Pete stops chewing, the bacon staying at his left molars, unable to say anything. _'They know what's up.'_

 

Black Suit smiles again, this time with a bit of confidence. "You have a knack on giving long song titles, Pete. I'm quite jealous of some others."

 

"Honestly, I have no idea how I'll call myself to simplify it to you." Headphones says, although Pete already knows he's Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?

 

"You're... you're Me and You." Pete points out to Black Suit, who nods, and he then points at Headphones. "I'll call you... okay, fuck, I have no idea what to call you. You're Headphones. That's it."

 

Headphones rolls his eyes in annoyance, but his facial features soften instantly. Pete turns to I've Got This Ringing... and says, "I'll call you Press Repeat because I'm so sorry I named you like that. That's too long for your own good."

 

"It's alright, I don't m-mind." Press Repeat giggles, taking off his hands from his ears and placing them on his lap. All of them look at Oversize shirt, who just swings his legs (and wearing Pete's ragged Converses) back and forth. This is turning into a huge guessing game.

 

"I still have no idea who you are, but I'll find out soon. Right now, you're Not-Patrick #10." Pete sternly says, and then finishes the meal.

 

Not-Patrick #10 shrugs, "I accept that."

 

Pete stands up, giving the four of them a smile. "I'm gonna go to the other rooms to enlighten myself of you all existing."

 

"Sure, we'll be around." Me and You thumbs up, and motions to Not-Patrick #10. "He'll be staying here with me."

 

"Alright. I'll be back soon." _'If no one will kill me before that.'_

 

Pete walks away from them after Press Repeat mildly shouts, "Find Fame<Infamy! He can help you out!"

 

 _'Where the hell is Fame <Infamy then? And what's he look like? I mean, they all look like Patrick but... Augh, I should've asked.'_ Pete mentally slaps himself, he's too lazy to go back to the kitchen and ask. He looks at the time. 10:07 am.

 

"Welp, time to go to the living room."


	2. The "I'm On Fiya" Club

The moment Pete steps in the living room, he feels the heatwave coming from the couches. He notices a couple of Not-Patricks tied up in a circle on the floor, squiggling and trying to break free from the ropes. All of their heads are covered by cloth bags so Pete can't tell which songs are these.

 

Somehow, the overall vibe of the atmosphere is almost deadly and menacing.

 

The thing that catches Pete's full attention is the flaming red wings flapping on one of the couches. The door is behind the furniture so the six Not-Patricks sitting there didn't see him come in. He can figure these guys are the bad ones.

 

But of course, Pete being the idiot that he is, still comes up in front of them and takes a look. The one with the red wings smirks, jumping off the couch and throws himself onto Pete. "Pete Wentz! You're finally awake! Man, I've been waiting for you!"

 

"Uhhh." That's only what Pete can say, since the heat is too overwhelming that he can feel his skin about to burn and melt.

 

"Phoenix, are you trying to give him skin cancer? Let go of Pete, dumb fuck." One of the Not-Patricks spits out, clearly drunk out of his mind but can still function well. He's dressed similarly to The Phoenix but Pete doesn't remember any song about being drunk in Save Rock and Roll. The only thing distinctive from his appearance apart from The Phoenix is that he has a small American flag patch on his leather jacket.

 

"Oops, sorry!" The Phoenix lets him go and clasps his hands together, grinning widely. "Did you sleep well? Did Grand Theft Autumn and Alone Together take care of you? I swear if they didn't, I will strike a match and burn them to the ground."

 

"Way to go quoting yourself." Another one deadpans, but this time he's a pre-hiatus Patrick. He has a lighter on his hand, flicking it on and off. The one beside Not-Patrick #13 cackles, hitting #13's shoulder repeatedly.

 

"Oooh Sophomore, you're a riot!"

 

"Shut up, Champagne."

 

"So, Pete. What's up?" The Phoenix waves his hand to dismiss them, still grinning at Pete.

 

Pete rubs his reddened arms, glancing around the songs on the couch. There's Sophomore Slump and Champagne For My Real Friends, then there's Drunk Punk, another Save Rock and Roll guy since he has no left hand again, tracing a few scars around the stump and one who looks like Grand Theft Autumn but unlike the pyjamas, he's wearing a maroon shirt layered with a grey jacket.

 

He's also confused as to why these guys haven't killed him and yet, they have other Not-Patricks tied up by the couches.

 

"Do you guys know where Fame<Infamy is?" Pete cautiously asks, eyes darting to all of them.

 

The SRAR guy looks up from his decapitated hand to the two of them and mumbles, "Lounge area. If he isn't there, he's probably outside with the others."

 

"Why are you looking for him anyways? That guy is a trainwreck." The Phoenix puts a hand on his hip, frowning.

 

"You're a trainwreck." SRAR guy drops his gaze from The Phoenix to his stump again.

 

Champagne and the drunken one laugh loudly enough to echo around the house. "He got you good!"

 

The Phoenix huffs, pouting at Not-Patrick #15. Pete doesn't want to admit but that's horrifyingly adorable. "You're so mean to me! What did I ever do to make you be this way towards me?"

 

"You burned my breakfast, fiery bitch." Not-Patrick #15 bursts into flames for a second, then dies down again into little fires on his arms. "I was surprised G.I.N.A.S.F.S. let you help him."

 

Pete feels like he got slapped. Oversize shirt is G.I.N.A.S.F.S.. Why didn't he realize that in the first place? Grand Theft Autumn already mentioned the sad little song cooked the bacon.

 

"It wasn't intentional, Light 'Em Up. Phoenix just wanted to do something good for you." Not-Patrick #16 says, adjusting his trucker hat in place.

 

Light 'Em Up shoots him a look, "He tried. He failed. He's a loser."

 

"Alright, alright. Fuck it." Pete raises his hands as to surrender. "I have to ask, why are you guys in a group if you're from different albums?"

 

"Pete, you dumbass." Sophomore Slump flicks off his lighter, pockets it and stands up, grabbing Pete's shoulders and faces Pete's body to the couch. "What do you think our similarities are?"

 

Pete looks at the songs in front of him. Light 'Em Up bursts into flames again, The Phoenix flaps his wings, Champagne swishes his finger, creating circles of flames in the air. Not-Patrick #16 shrugs while Drunk Punk just rolls his eyes.

 

God, Pete's so stupid.

 

"Fire? Wait, you're all related to fire."

 

"'Bout time you figure that out, Wentz." Sophomore Slump drops his grip and kicks one of the tied up Not-Patricks, who only snarls through some gag. Pete takes it back, they're not seemingly harmful, they're a bunch of fire-breathing dragons out to eliminate their enemies. And he thinks he's next.

 

The Phoenix notices the change in Pete's expression from curious to afraid, so he places a firm hand on Pete's forearm. "Pete, don't be scared of us. Who you should be scared of are the ones who are tied up. They're evil."

 

"But you're the songs I wrote to destroy everything in your path!" Pete brushes off The Phoenix's hand and backs away. "You're made out of anger and rebellion! Light 'Em Up are from pent up hatred for disloyal love, Sophomore Slump and Champagne are from lies and deceit! So why should I trust you?"

 

The songs he mentioned reluctantly inch away. The Phoenix looks hurt more than anyone else, his wings fold down and the heat in the room seems to cool off. Everyone is quiet and once again Pete can't help but be uncomfortable.

 

"Why shouldn't you trust something you wrote?" Not-Patrick #16 asks in a hushed tone. "It's not our fault you made us like this. We're protecting you, Pete. We like you even if the way we're created were from the opposite."

 

"Why are you so calm about this?"

 

"Well," Champagne lowly chuckles, shaking his head. "we could say he's the silence before the disaster. Variations of that, anyone?"

 

Pete wants to jump from the nearest window. "Calm Before The Storm."

 

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" Champagne flails his arms up, giggling like a child. "You're good at this if you have hints! I wonder if there's a time where you can never tell who's who because to be frank, the Take This To Your Grave and Evening Out With Your Girlfriend guys are very similar in appearance."

 

"Wait. Even the extended plays are here?" Pete swallows hard, widening his eyes at the thought.

 

"Yup, but the remixes aren't. If you only know how upset those psycho dudes were when you made a remix album." Calm Before The Storm sighs, tracing the small patch of his skin through a burned hole of his jeans. "American Beauty/American Psycho went on a killing spree and gutted almost everyone. I still recall the cold blade of that knife piercing my chest repeatedly. Good thing we songs don't die permanently unless that thing happens."

 

Pete frowns, "What do you mean?"

 

"You see Pete," Light 'Em Up leans back on the couch, resisting the tiny voice inside of his head saying light Pete on fire, "we continue to exist because you remember us. We're alive in your fans' hearts. The only way for a song to die is to be forgotten. Some songs tend to have missing limbs because only a few people remember them."

 

"It's hard for us extended play songs." Drunk Punk chimes in, showing Pete his fading leg. "Especially Pax-AM Days. Fucking bad reviews hurt, you know? Evening Out has it good, they're still fine."

 

It doesn't take Pete to put in two and two together once he finally got them. This is American Made, one of the random drunk songs they made just for the heck of it. They wanted to try the pure punk sound and that EP is the result of it. Pete didn't expect it would be this hard to see a song fading right in front of his eyes.

 

American Made is right, only a few really listened to that EP and kept them on their playlists.

 

Pete sits down on the floor, rubbing his temples. It's only sixteen songs he met so far and he's already drained. Just the thought of all this for him is draining.

 

He hears Sophomore Slump mutter, "May We Don't Take Hits, We Write Them rest well."

 

"Anyway, you need help finding Fame, right? He's the one knowledgeable about all this." The Phoenix says, still a little uneasy from Pete's words but manages to give Pete a cheery smile. "We can help you."

 

It's completely wrong to judge people--or songs by their looks so Pete nods, putting down all his guard and trusting this flaming bunch. "Fine. But uh... are those guys tied up all of the evil ones?"

 

"Nope. We couldn't get a hold of The Mighty Fall, The Pros and Cons of Breathing, Saturday, AB/AP, Centuries and Snitches and Talkers. They're too sneaky or wild enough for us." Champagne gets up from the couch and removes one of the cloth bags, showing a youngster Not-Patrick.

He's glaring at Champagne, who only chuckles. He removes the gag, "This bitch is Chicago is So Two Years Ago."

 

"I will break every bone of your fuckin' body when I get out of this, Champagne. Watch me."

 

"Oooh, I'm shitting myself." Champagne mocks, his hands glowing red and press them on Chicago's cheeks. Chicago screams in agony, the heat like burning coals damaging his pudgy cheeks.

 

Pete looks away, he's too contradicted on the fact that are they really good or they're the evil ones? He knows Chicago isn't that bad, but why hurt him?

 

Champagne grins widely before turning his expression into a straight face, pressing his hands harder. "That's what you get for picking on Gin Joints the other day. You think I just let you piece of shit messing with my brother like that? Trying to get inside his head is a bad idea, asshole. Don't you dare touch him again."

 

He digs his nails on the song's skin before letting Chicago go. Red handprints are left, Chicago seethes in pain and closes his eyes shut. "You motherfucker!"

 

Champagne puts on the gag and cloth bag on again and stands up to brush his hands on his sides. "See? We're not the evil ones, we're just setting shit straight."

 

Pete takes a look on the other fire songs. Sophomore Slump is smirking, still flicking his lighter on and off. American Made drinks from a bottle of whiskey, eyes squinting at Champagne. Light 'Em Up didn't seem to care at all, he only scoffs and proceeds to trace his scars again. Calm Before The Storm looks like he wants to stand up for Chicago but didn't, he knows he would be in trouble too. The Phoenix isn't watching at all, he's staring at Pete. So when Pete's eyes land on him, he quickly looks away and walks to Champagne's side and pulls the pissed off song out of Chicago's radius.

 

"That's enough, Champagne. I think you already got your point across. Put him in real pain right there huh, big guy."

 

"If that's your attempt on making a reference from my name then you have got to be fuckin' kidding me." Champagne laughs, playfully pushing The Phoenix and then sits back down beside Sophomore Slump. The two high five, grinning at each other.

 

Light 'Em Up clicks his tongue and faces The Phoenix. "I think Pete's burning daylight by watching us torture these songs. We should go find Fame before sundown. I don't want to run into Sixteen Candles."

 

"Oh yeah, Sixteen Candles is a huge butthole." The Phoenix utters, lifting Light 'Em Up on his shoulder and glances at Pete. "Let's go."

 

Pete bites his bottom lip, "What about the others?"

 

"They stay here until we get back. They'll be fine." Light 'Em Up mutters, ignoring the small butt squeeze The Phoenix did to him. Pete is intrigued about these two's relationship. One moment they're basically talking shit at one another and the next, they're all cutesy and sorta lewd.

 

Pete ships it.

 

"Alright, but is it really okay with you accompanying me?"

 

"Yeah!" The Phoenix exclaims, walking to the hallway with Pete trailing behind him. "We're going to protect you, Pete. Some songs are upset with you so we're gonna help you take the world back from the heart-attacked, one maniac at a time."

 

"Stop embarrassing yourself, Phoenix." Light 'Em Up says, hiding his smile but Pete can clearly see it.

 

They pass through the kitchen and see Me and You and G.I.N.A.S.F.S. playing chess. They say hi, and then go to the next room which is the dining area. There's a group of leather jacket wearing Not-Patricks sitting on the table and chairs. Alone Together is one of them, talking to a song smoking a cigarette and blushing profusely. Pete smiles, knowing Alone Together found Where Did The Party Go.

 

One is eating random food with a blindfold on and somewhat a second mouth on his throat, with a bloody Not-Patrick helping him find the pieces of food. He has his stomach cut open, which makes Pete almost throw up from the sight of the guy's intestines hanging off. He snickers, taking his own kidney from the open stomach and lifts it to the eating guy's nose. "Young V, what's this?"

 

"I have no idea until I taste it."

 

"It's my dick." Another Not-Patrick chuckles lightly, who has a belt decorated with grenades.

 

"You're gross." Young Volcanoes latches the long tongue from his second mouth and takes a bite of the kidney and chews. "It's a kidney. Stop feeding me your organs."

 

"You're too good at this!" Guts dude places back his bitten kidney into the hole and Pete feels his breakfast threaten to come out.

 

"Remind me how are you still alive from all that." The last leather jacket dude perks up, taking the bowl full of bloody apples and some kind of cooked meat away from the two others. He's wearing just black and white, and his skin in a greyish tone. Pete also takes note of their decapitated hands replaced by either a hook or just bandaged. The only song with still a right hand intact is The Phoenix. Good for him.

 

Guts dude pulls out his large intestine and wrap it on Black and White's neck like a scarf. "Guts and glory, baby. Guts and fuckin' glory."

 

"Disgusting!" Black and White pushes it off with his hook, sickened at the 'scarf'. "Remove it!"

 

"Killjoy." He removes the large intestine and shoves it in his stomach again. "I mean, okay I'm quoting Gerard Way but... think of the organs inside you just swishing around."

 

"No, I-"

 

Guts dude stands up, shaking his body which makes his small intestines slide out. "We have the same body structure, Miss Missing You. Think about the organs inside of you."

 

"The fuck Death Valley can you stop that? It's very traumatizing." Where Did The Party Go covers Alone Together's eyes as he glares at Death Valley.

 

The Phoenix gently puts Light 'Em Up down and greets, "Hey Youngbloods!"

 

"Damnit, Phoenix." Light 'Em Up facepalms, then motions to Pete. "Pete's here, be decent you idiots."

 

"Pete! Wow, you're actually real! I'm starting to think all of this is just a dream!" Death Valley didn't even pick up his intestines and comes up to Pete to shake his hand, leaving bloodstains on Pete's palm.

 

"Pete Wentz? Man, I can't even see him. Damnit. I've got no eyes underneath this stupid blindfold." Young Volcanoes hits his fist on the table a little hard, setting a spoon flying to a wall.

 

Pete nervously laughs, "There's not much to see anyways. Just a bassist."

 

" _Just_ a bassist? That's an even bigger bullshit than the time The Mighty Fall became nice to Just One Yesterday! You're a legend for us!" Where Did The Party Go blows off the smoke, getting up from his seat with a smirk. "We're really thankful you and the band made us for your comeback. Eternally grateful, sir."

 

"Please. Don't call me sir. Pete's fine, no need to be formal and all." Pete is starting to warm up to the Save Rock and Roll group, so far they're the most cheerful ones to see Pete. He's kind of nervous to meet the other three, especially The Mighty Fall, with the bad comments the other songs are saying.

 

Miss Missing You ducks his head on the table, muttering under his breath. "Patrick made me, though. Wasn't supposed to be for this album."

 

Alone Together is the only one who hears it, but he didn't comment on it. He knows Miss Missing You doesn't need more angst in his hands. He stands up to go over near Pete and says, "I checked in, by the way."

 

Pete laughs, "I'm glad."

 

"Lyric puns are my thing!" The Phoenix pouts once again, receiving a hit on the head from Light 'Em Up.

 

"Kidding aside, have you guys seen Fame<Infamy?" Pete glances around for answers, getting shrugs in response.

 

"Maybe Rat a Tat seen hi- hey, where did he go?" Where Did The Party Go groans, while Alone Together, The Phoenix and Death Valley suppress their laughter. They did found the party, but now the suicide bomb is missing.

 

Pete shakes his head, "Okay, we'll definitely check the lounge. See you guys around."

 

"Be safe! If you've seen someone who looks like us but in a bloody army green shirt, avoid him. That's Mighty Fall. Just One Yesterday is always with him, like a dog. He's wearing black. Rock n’ Roll is all white. Stuck up asshole, if you ask me." Death Valley says. Pete takes a look at all of their shirts under the leather jackets and black cardigans.

 

The Phoenix has red, Light 'Em Up has dark blue, Alone Together has yellow, Where Did The Party Go has purple, Miss Missing You has grey and Young Volcanoes has orange.

 

He'll get a notebook for this later, but right now Pete's main mission is to find Fame<Infamy even if that's the last thing he'll ever do.

 

He wishes it won't be the last thing he'll ever do, though.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. “Of All Albums, You Picked AB/AP to Have a Remix Album” by Fall Out Boy

"Is lunch ready yet?"

 

"You just ate a ham sandwich just now, Phoenix."

 

"But I'm hungry! I wanna eat." The Phoenix whines for the eleventh time within the span of five minutes, putting his head on Light 'Em Up's shoulder as they go through the hallways again.

 

"Eat, my ass." Light 'Em Up grits out, but then realizes what he just said when The Phoenix slides a hand on his side suggestively. He pushes the winged Not-Patrick away, walking faster. "I mean, wait until we're done."

 

Pete chuckles, keeping up to The Phoenix's walking pace. "Are you two a thing or...?"

 

"No, no! We just like to play around, that's all. He's the only one who can put up with me, and I'm the only one who can keep him in check. He's unstable." The Phoenix keeps his eyes on the song in question, a small smile on his face.

 

"Oh." Pete takes his gaze from The Phoenix to Light 'Em Up's figure in front of them, thinking how unstable he really is.

 

They turn to a corner and stop to a huge door. Pete turns the knob and swings it open, finding someone sitting by the window taking pictures of the view outside.

 

"Oh man, of all albums." The Phoenix groans, and Pete wonders what's with him.

 

"Hey, Coffee. Where's Fame?" Light 'Em Up asks nervously but masking it by crossing his arms.

 

(Coffee's For Closers) frowns at them, obviously unamused with the sudden intrusion. "And why should I tell you?"

 

"Pete needs his help about us."

 

"Sorry pyrofreak, I don't really believe in anything you say, especially from someone who went on a rampage and burned every Folie song." He goes back to taking pictures, huffing a bit in every click.

 

Light 'Em Up balls his fists, ready to maim it at him but The Phoenix steps forward and grabs the camera, almost cracking the lens. "It wasn't his fault. He couldn't control his anger, alright? It was Save Rock and Roll who made him mad that time. I'm sorry on behalf of him."

 

"You're not forgiven. Now give me back my camera, firefly!" (Coffee's For Closers) reaches up to get his camera back but The Phoenix raises his arm, the camera now out of the smaller song's reach.

 

"Tell us where Fame is or I'll break your precious little camera." The Phoenix threatens, gripping it tighter and they can hear tiny cracks.

 

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you! Just don't break it!" (Coffee's For Closers) pleads, hugging himself as he keeps his eyes on his camera. "He was gone, alright? AB/AP has him. He said him and Pete has business to do. If Pete wanted to see Fame, he has to meet AB/AP first. That's all I know."

 

"Jesus Christ, that little psycho's been around lately." Light 'Em Up mumbles, checking the clock on the wall and then turns to Pete. "If I were you, I wouldn't try finding AB/AP. He's very dangerous."

 

"You're one to talk, pyrofreak." (Coffee's For Closers) whispers mostly to himself, but The Phoenix catches it.

 

"Watch what you're saying about Light or not only your camera be cracked today." The Phoenix tosses the camera back to him, and quickly (Coffee's For Closers) stands up and grips Pete's shirt.

 

"Why do you have to write murderous songs after hiatus? This is your entire fuckin' fault." (Coffee's For Closers) lets go of him and gives them three one last glare before rushing out of the room.

 

Before Pete can even react to it, someone enters the room with papers in hand, "Fame, we need your he- oh. Where's Fame?"

 

"We're also finding him." The Phoenix kicks the small water bottle on the floor, pocketing his hands.

 

"What's it about anyways?" Light 'Em Up asks the shorter than usual Not-Patrick, ruffling his hair.

 

Pete looks at him from head to toe. Not-Patrick #24's features are younger than the rest he'd seen today. He's like Grand Theft Autumn, but really short. Judging by the stature, he's only 4'8".

 

"There's an anomaly in the plane when um..." He points at Pete, smiling sheepishly. "when he arrived. Hi, Pete."

 

"Hey, kiddo."

 

"Kiddo? Psh, I'm older than the two of them! Made on 2001, yo. It's just that I'm so short that it makes me look like I'm a kid but well in fact, I'm pretty mature!" Not-Patrick #24 shows Light 'Em Up the papers then crosses his arms, sneering at Pete. "Short, Fast and Loud. SHL for short."

 

"Heh, short." The Phoenix snorts, and SHL punches him in the gut. "Ow, fuck!"

 

"Just because you're tall doesn't mean I can't hit you." SHL smirks, "I still know more things than you do."

 

The Phoenix rubs his stomach, looking at Light 'Em Up for some support but the latter is reading the papers, oblivious to what just happened. He gives the papers back to SFL and says, "Coffee said AB/AP has Fame. I don't know much about anomalies like this. I could help with the diversion, though."

 

"Oh, thanks." SFL smiles a bit, but it dissolves into a troubled expression. "I just saw AB/AP on the way here. He's with Centuries talking about Pete."

 

"Me? What about me?" Pete is worried about this, for all he knows those two could be planning to kill him. But why would something he created kill him?

 

"I have no idea, but I caught your name in their conversation a few times. Novocaine was also there, but I think he's reasoning with them."

 

"Novocaine?" Pete bites his lip until it bleeds. He searches through his mind what kind of song Novocaine is again.

 

Another song about anger and disloyal love. From that and he's with AB/AP and Centuries, he's probably evil too. But then again, The Phoenix has the same vibe but he's good. This is stressing Pete so much.

 

"Ah, Novocaine. Very toxic. One touch of his and it's bye bye. Either your arm will be very, very cold and numb or it'll never function ever again. Only Jet Pack Blues is immune to that, surprisingly." The Phoenix puts a finger on his chin as if he's thinking. "He's a good friend of ours. Most American Beauty/American Psycho songs are."

 

"Could they be useful for this? I mean, we need help."

 

"There's a chance that he won't since he's under AB/AP and he devotes his existence to protect Jet Pack Blues. Man, that poor guy is so sensitive."

 

Light 'Em Up adds, "So whiny too."

 

The Phoenix shrills, hitting the second track lightly on the arm. "Light! Be nice!"

 

"What? It's true."

 

"Anyway, I don't wanna stick around so I'm going to go now. See you guys later!" SHL waves a bit, kissing Pete on the cheek and runs out. Pete chuckles, turning to the two songs.

 

"What's the deal with you and Folie?"

 

The Phoenix rubs the back of his head, nervously smiling. "Oh, uh. Half the pre-hiatus songs don't like us post-hiatus. Folie is one, they despise Save Rock and Roll. Supposedly because they believed there's nothing else would be made after them, so when you guys made us, they got upset. Took it out on Light 'Em Up. We didn't mind much but I Don't Care put up a fight one time and I was sick of it. I was sick of them picking on him. Save Rock and Roll, a major prick, made Light angry and let him hurt the Folie guys. Once Light came up to his senses, he already caused enough damage. He-"

 

"I apologized, but they never forgave me. Well, not all of them. What a Catch, Donnie understood it wasn't my intention to hurt them, it's just that I black out when anger clouded my vision. Since then, I try to avoid every Folie I pass by. That's also why this idiot Phoenix sticks to me a lot. He keeps me in my neutral state, no matter how annoying he is. I'm just glad he's around." Light 'Em Up goes to the spot where (Coffee's For Closers) was sitting before, looking through the window to find out what the non-believer was taking pictures of earlier.

 

He sees some other songs outside, doing whatever they please. Light 'Em Up confirms (Coffee's For Closers) is a giant creep.

 

Pete still couldn't get over the fact that Folie á Deux hates Save Rock and Roll. The comeback was a huge thing for him, in fact he's quite reluctant at first when Andy proposed a small get-together and just play a few songs. It only led to writing when Patrick presented Miss Missing You to them. He also recalled how the Not-Patrick Miss Missing You wasn't that excited to see him. That's right, he doesn't own Miss Missing You entirely. He was Patrick's.

 

Pete beats himself up, he has to clear this up between Folie á Deux and Save Rock and Roll.

 

The Phoenix cavorts behind Light 'Em Up, picking him up and hugging him, squealing a little. "Aw, I knew you do appreciate me. Can't resist this vintage misery, huh."

 

"And then I'm not happy anymore because you said that. Fuck you, Phoenix."

 

"Love you too, Light! Alright, let's go look in the other areas to see if people have seen either AB/AP and Fame."

 

"Do you guys have respective rooms to stay in? Like, there's rooms for the Folie songs or something. Might be easier to go through." Pete suggests, since the mansion has so many rooms and Pete doesn't memorize where to go. It might be the FOB house but it's too big for the four of them.

 

Speaking of which, where's Patrick, Joe and Andy?

 

Light 'Em Up nods, "Yeah, it's upstairs. Three rooms per album, but Infinity has four. Some of us don't like staying with their group so they roam at night and stay somewhere else."

 

"We could go to AB/AP rooms first. Ask around and maybe they have Fame in there." Pete says, chewing on his already bruised lip. They set off to go upstairs after skipping over the hallway stained with blood. Pete asks the two what happened in there and they laugh. ("LSD and We Were Doomed like to tear each other apart for fun." "Who's LSD?" "Love Sex Death, my friend.") The third floor is a bit messy, but Pete can appreciate the color coded doors.

 

"Blue greens are Take This To Your Grave, maroons are Cork Tree, electric and dark blues are Infinity, reds are Folie, ours is black and AB/AP is army greens. The two grey ones at the both ends are for the extended plays. The one with a red handprint is Pax-AM."

 

"Also, Cork Tree, AB/AP and Save Rock and Roll resides in east wing while the rest on west wing." The Phoenix adds in with a small pat on Pete's shoulder.

 

Pete takes note of that, he'll have to be careful which door to open. He walks towards an army green door and holds the knob. "Wait, should I knock first?"

 

"Nah, just go inside. We'll be right behind you." The Phoenix assures with a slight grin. Pete takes a deep breath and opens the door, getting greeted by darkness.

 

"Oh, fuck. Not this room, I forgot this one's for the psycho side of that album." Light 'Em Up bursts to flames and steps inside, illuminating the room. The windows are boarded up and Pete tries the light switch but no avail. He squints to see what's in there.

 

Two bunk beds and a singular bed on the far wall, messy blankets and some weapons such as knives, guns and swords, a broken guitar and two figures sitting on one of the bottom bunks. They seem to be huddled, talking quietly.

 

"Hey, is there no light switch in here?" Pete goes near them, taking a quick look on their faces. All he sees is black and white before The Phoenix pulls him back.

 

"Not them. Don't try to. Let's go."

 

"Who are-" Pete yelps at The Phoenix suddenly picking him up and putting him on his shoulders.

 

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

 

"Where are-" The first voice says, then follows with "-you going?" by the other. The Phoenix freezes, his breath hitching. Pete sees Light 'Em Up hold onto The Phoenix's jacket and the room suddenly feels so cold that it extinguished his flames, leaving them in the very dimmed glow from The Phoenix's wings.

 

There's giggling, footsteps getting closer to where they're standing. Pete feels a hand on his arm and he didn't know if it's still the two fire guys or the two new ones.

 

"Leave Pete alone, "The Phoenix says in a stern tone, "or I'll tell Kids Aren't Alright."

 

"Like we're scared-" The voice is definitely closer, just right beside them.

 

"-of him. You shouldn't be-"

 

"-in here, Phoenix. You're still a-"

 

"-threat to us."

 

It's silent for a whole minute before Pete speaks up. "Seriously, though. The lights."

 

The lights turn on, and they all squint from the suddenness. The temperature of the room is back to normal. Pete rubs his eyes and peeks through his fingers. Two Not-Patricks in skeleton costumes complete with the face paint. The first one is the one holding onto his arm. The paint reminds him of the Black Parade era of My Chemical Romance, when Gerard puts a skull face paint. Pete already figures who they are.

 

The first one smiles widely, "Hello, Pete. Nice to-"

 

"-finally meet you! We're just waiting-" The second one grabs Pete by the hips and pries him away from The Phoenix.

 

"-for nighttime. There's a surprise-"

 

"-prepared for you!"

 

He's dropped off on the bed, and Pete recomposes himself while his eyes darts onto Twin Skeleton's and his two companions. "What surprise?"

 

Skeleton #1 shakes his head, "It won't be a surprise if-"

 

"-we tell you, so be patient." Skeleton #2 puts his index finger on his lips.

 

Pete is quite fascinated on these two. It's like they know what the other will say. Or do they? Either way, Pete is fond of it. He then thinks why The Phoenix and Light 'Em Up don't like them. Twin Skeleton's said The Phoenix is a threat to them, but why?

He starts to conclude that Save Rock and Roll has a lot of enemies.

 

"Alright. Can I ask you something?" Pete sits up straight. Twin Skeleton's sit on either his sides, clinging on his arms. He hears Light 'Em Up mumbling under his breath and sees The Phoenix just giving them stink eye.

 

Twin Skeleton's giggle, "You already-"

 

"-asked, Pete. What is it?"

 

"Have you seen AB/AP with Fame? I need to talk to him."

 

Twin Skeleton's smiles dissolve into tight lines. They look at each other before smiling brightly at Pete again. "No, we haven't-"

 

"-seen AB/AP all day, not to-"

 

"-mention Fame. We're here all morning."

 

Pete isn't sure about that. They're hiding something and he can tell it a mile away. Light 'Em Up roughly pulls Pete away from them, hand too warm than the usual human heat. "C'mon, they don't know so we don't have to stay here longer than we needed to be."

 

Twin Skeleton's frown, skipping off the bed and standing behind them. Pete can see the nervousness in Light 'Em Up's eyes and the hidden mischief on Twin Skeleton's. He starts to feel the coldness of the room again, the lights dimming back to complete darkness. They really need to get out of there.

 

"No promises are made today, fuckers." The Phoenix uses his wings to shield Light 'Em Up and Pete from the two. He grabs the two of them and drag them out before the darkness consume the entire room again. He closes the door and lets go of them. "You guys okay? I told you Pete, you shouldn't have tried to talk to them. They're the puppet dealers."

 

"Puppet dealers." Pete says, unsure of the term used.

 

"Puppet dealers, meaning they try to pin you up into a promise that you can't get out of. Like black magic shit. They'll ask you for something and promise to do it and if you agree, they'll be able to control you. It's horrible." Light 'Em Up stands in front of another army green door, "This time, we knock."

 

Pete is quiet, taking all the information in. For him, the song Twin Skeleton's is a love song, a modern anxiety, clinical love. Guess songs change personality when they get erratic with other songs. After all, they belong to the psycho album.

 

Light 'Em Up put his ear against the door and knocks twice, the only sound of a melody is heard from the other side. There's a small "Come in!" comes from inside so he twists the knob and they cautiously enter. The room is illuminated by neon and fairy lights, decorated with techie stuff, bean bags, a huge American flag and unlit fireworks. The windows are covered by vinyl records this time, ranging from David Bowie to Refused to Meshuggah. The beds are the same, but it's neater than the first room.

 

One of them has a black tutu over his jeans, being twirled by another in a very familiar blue armor from a movie. The last one has no distinct feature from the current Patrick. Faint Elvis Costello is playing from the record player and Not-Patrick #28 stops it and smiles at the three.

 

"Hey Light, Phoenix." His smile lessens, "Pete."

 

"Oh, so the word is right! You really are here, Peter Wentz!" Black Tutu twirls over to Pete and bows in courtesy, cheeks pink and smile wide. "What an honour."

 

Pete already pin pointed who he is, along with the one in a bluearmour. "Hey Favourite Record. That's a pretty tutu."

 

"Thank you!" Favourite Record coos, taking Pete's hand and leads him into one of the bean bags on the floor. "What brings you here?"

 

"AB/AP." Pete says, watching their smiles turn into serious ones.

 

Light 'Em Up slumps down on the floor, turning on a few candles stacked on a side. "If you guys know anything, please don't lie to our faces like what Twin Skeleton's did."

 

"Why would we do that? We're your friends, Light." Immortals presses a button on his arm, projecting a small screen. "AB/AP left a message for you guys."

 

In the screen shows AB/AP, waving a bit. He has a gagged Fame beside him, tied up on a chair. _"Hello Pete Wentz! First of all, fuck you! Second of all, we will play a game called Hide and Seek!"_

 

"Sicko." Not-Patrick #28 whispers.

 

_"Mechanics of the game...The thing is, you're it, but have to be alone as you find us. No bodyguards. So, Phoenix and Light,"_ He smirks to the camera, a knife in hand now pressed on Fame's neck. _"better leave Pete alone. I'm watching you. There are clues in every part of the house, and each of the songs in them will either help you or fight you for it. I suppose you've been in ours since you're watching this already."_

 

"That's filmed in the basement." Immortals points at the coffin behind AB/AP. "That's Sixteen Candles' casket."

 

"Sixteen Candles is a what, a vampire?" Pete asks incredulously.

 

The Phoenix huffs, "Unfortunately, he is."

 

"What the fuck." Pete leans back further on the beanbag, looking at the screen again.

 

AB/AP circles around Fame, giggling. _"Anything you wanna say, Fame?"_

 

He removes the gag and Fame screams, _"Pete, wake up!"_

 

_"That's enough."_ AB/AP puts the gag back on before punching Fame in the face. The latter made a horrible noise. The psychotic song looks at the camera with a smirk. _"You have 48 hours to do it before I wipe out Fame <Infamy in the Infinity on High album. Time starts as soon as you're finished viewing this. Thanks for the anomaly, by the way. Good fuckin' luck, bitch."_

 

Immortals turns the holographic screen off, then turns to Pete. "What did Twin told you when you came in there?"

 

"They said there's a surprise for me tonight. I'm not so sure, I don't trust them. What's up with AB/AP that he'll actually do such a thing?"

 

"Well, let me tell you." Not-Patrick #28 walks towards Pete and stops in front of him, sparks of fireworks are left in each step. "Remix. Album."

 

"Oh yeah, holy shit. The remix album. Now I remember I was supposed to be mad at you." Favourite Record crosses his arms, pouting cutely. "But I can't. Gotta be the bigger song about this."

 

Pete wants to hit himself with a frying pan. The remix album is the cause of all this? Is AB/AP serious? From the judge of it, he is. Pete thinks there's lots of other things for the songs to be mad about. And he still doesn't understand what the anomaly is about.

 

"I think there's another reason for it, but I don't know. AB/AP likes games. This is some sort of a welcome gift to you." Immortals removes his helmet, tossing it on the bed. "Call it sick, but yeah."

 

"I just have to find them within two days, right? How hard could that be?" Pete shrugs, getting up.

 

Light 'Em Up retaliates, bursting into flames for a second. "How hard could that be? Jesus Christ, Pete. It's very hard. You do realize you have to interact with every Fall Out Boy song to get a clue, right? Not everyone will help you. Besides, AB/AP is very tricky. He could've used the anomaly for something worse than you can ever imagine."

 

"What's the anomaly even about?"

 

"Since your arrival, there are some songs that changed in terms of their moods. Some of us became even more destructive than the usual. I think AB/AP found out that now you're here, when songs are killed, it takes a long time for them to reform. They could be wiped out from the album. Wiped out from every Fall Out Boy fans' memory, even yours. You won't remember you wrote a song like that." Immortals says, sighing softly.

 

"Only a few songs know about this. We don't want this kind of information to go around especially to the evil ones. God forbid I hope The Mighty Fall and Snitches still haven't found out about this. But even then, they’ll still murder some." Fourth of July grimaces at the thought, handing Pete a notebook. "This is supposed to be given to you by Fame. It's every song's information and sketches of them. Fame knew you'd arrive someday, so he readied everything. Psycho knows about this so he gave it to me to give it to you as a clue."

 

Pete takes the notebook and flips through the pages, scanning over the inked drawings and some vital information. Props to Fame, he has nice drawing skills. "Thanks, this'll help a lot."

 

"There are moments that you might not be able to go through that so I suggest you take a better look. Take This To Your Grave dudes don't like people mixing them all up." Favourite Record adds, replacing the record with a new one.

 

Pete slowly nods, getting up and going over to the door. He looks back at them, seeing their worried and assuring faces. He smiles at his two earlier companions. "Thanks for coming with me."

 

"No problem, Pete. Just don't die and we'll all be alright!" The Phoenix thumbs up, but Pete can see how nervous he is.

 

"I won't, I'll save you guys like you saved me. See you around."

 

Pete sets off outside alone, closing the door and taking a deep breath. He hears footsteps at his left and he looks up, seeing another song.


	4. Better Do What They Say or You’ll Folie à Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood, unauthorized surgery, descriptions of mutilation and unnecessary appreciation for Centuries’ thighs

"It's a pleasure to see such a beaut around here. How have you been, Peter?"

 

There's only one song with king in it. It's written all over this song, from the cracked crown to the bloodied royal outfit complete with a ragged cape. There's a sword sheathed on his belt, hands dripping in blood and the sickening grin on his face makes Pete want to go inside the room he came from again. But then if he does that, the other songs could be in trouble too.

 

He remembers what The Phoenix said earlier, this song likes to tear people apart for fun. Now that the anomaly is happening, he wonders if this song already killed a few considering the fresh blood on his clothes.

 

"I-I'm fine. Didn't expect to see you, We Were Doomed. I was leaning more on someone else." Pete backs away, stepping near the west wing. He stumbles onto the loose tile and he trips backwards, landing on his butt.

 

We Were Doomed chuckles darkly. "Who? Those peasants? They got nothing on me."

 

"D-did you kill anyone today?" He's half-expecting We Were Doomed to lounged at him and maybe decapitate him with his sword but the song just holds out his hand, offering to support Pete up.

 

Pete reluctantly takes the bloody hand and We Were Doomed pulls him up to his feet, his other hand brushing onto Pete's cheek. "Peter, my dear. You're mistaken. I don't just kill for my expense. I've been careful lately, I'm very well aware of the consequences of putting an end onto a song's life."

 

"Then why are you b-bloody?" Pete wants to push him away, but the latter hasn't made any alerting movements. Rather he's very gentle on Pete, like he's holding a porcelain doll.

 

"That is just the way I am. Afterall, the king is dead." We Were Doomed never removed his grin, instead it widens even more. He places a key on Pete's palm. "Key to the attic. You wouldn't believe what the monster trio is up to."

 

"Monster trio?"

 

Pete is starting to get infuriated with the names of these songs. First, there's the I'm On Fire club, then there's the Puppet Dealers and now the Monster trio? How many groups are there?

 

"Folie à Deux has dark sides waiting to be unleashed. You created monsters, Peter. These ones were your greatest struggle, am I right?" We Were Doomed lets go of him, drawing a symbol on the wall. It's a sad face with a crown on top, the excess blood from his fingers dripped on the wall slowly.

 

Pete watches it, before looking at We Were Doomed again. He's only smiling at Pete. "Yeah. Are they mad at me?"

 

“A little pissed, yes. Some others are already planning how to tear you apart limb from limb. You'll see. I have given you the clue that you needed. Be careful with who you trust, Peter. Farewell." We Were Doomed disappears into the far room, the grey door with a handprint.

 

Pete let out a breath he's holding. He removes the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand, then wipes it on his jeans. He pockets the key and goes towards the west wing. He meenie-miney-mo the doors, and his index finger lands on a red one.

 

A Folie door. Pete swallows hard, balling his fist to knock on the oak door. At first there's no response, but then the door swings open before Pete could blink, revealing a Not-Patrick in a black dress and three-inch heels. This is Tiffany Blews, no doubt about it. He's two inches taller than Pete now and Pete can't help but question it.

 

"Why are you in a dress and heels?"

 

Tiffany Blews huffs in offense, "Because it's a classic, bitch, I'm classy! Now what the fuck do you need, powder puff?"

 

"Um, regarding Americ-"

 

"Oh yeah, that guy. He didn't get to leave anything on me because I socked his balls earlier with my heels. You know what they say about heels, it's better than knives." Tiffany Blews winks, opening the door wider. "Come in."

 

Pete suddenly fears for his life, Tiffany Blews is practically an embodiment of Patrick's sass. And possibly the violent side too. He goes inside the room and finds another Not-Patrick, this time with a handkerchief on his nose. Pete notices the blood patches on the cloth and he immediately knows who this is. The song waves and adjusts his glasses.

 

"Disloyal Order went out a few minutes ago to get snacks, but they'll be back soon. I hope it's pizza pockets." 20 Dollar Nosebleed says, going over beside Tiffany Blews who's on the floor playing a fighting game.

 

"They?" Pete hopes it's just pronouns and they're not a duo or a trio again.

 

"Yeah, Half-Doomed and Semi-Sweet." Tiffany Blews chides, smashing buttons.

 

Pete sighs defeatedly. Of course, they had to be that line. He sits beside the two, flipping the pages of the notebook Fourth of July gave him. He finds Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes occupying two pages. Half-Doomed looks more like Patrick if he went to the emo phase like Pete did, with the all-black clothing, guyliner and black hair with side swept bangs. Semi-Sweet on the other hand is the opposite, with his pastel purple clothes, gold-colored bonnet and a very endearing smile.

 

_[notebook note #1 - disloyal order](http://i.imgur.com/zshtyl2.png)  
_

 

It's written on the bottom part of the page in red ink. It very much looks like Patrick's handwriting.

 

He studies the room. It’s more flourished than the ones he was in earlier, with their carpeted floor and hammocks on the ceilings. It looks very comfortable to be in, minus the occasional glares Tiffany Blews throw at him.

 

"Did he leave anything on you, 20 Dollar Nosebleed?" Pete asks, facing the song.

 

He shrugs, taking a new handkerchief from his pocket and throws the used one into the trashbin. "Nah, once Tiffany socked him, he didn't get to give us anything. Centuries, however, went over here and gave Half-Doomed a black cube a few days ago. Dunno what that's for."

"It'll be hard to get that thing out of Half-Doomed." Tiffany Blews mooches, pausing his game and looks at Pete. "Centuries is horrible."

 

"Why? What did he do?" Pete is kind of hurt by it, because hey, it's his song.

 

"When I said it'll be hard to get that thing out of Half-Doomed, I meant Centuries shoved the cube inside his mouth and made him swallow it. Like, sure his thighs are fuckin' gorgeous but his personality is so bad I want to stab him with a spork. Or my heels for that matter."

 

"Most Post-hiatus songs are so awful. First there's Light ‘Em Up setting us on fire, then AB/AP stabbing us all, not to mention Rat a Tat throwing a grenade at West Coast Smoker just to startle the poor guy and now we have Centuries feeding us cubes. It doesn't even look like an ice cube." 20 Dollar Nosebleed wheezes, sneezing onto the handkerchief.

 

"They just love hurting Folie." Someone says from the door, and they all look up to see the opposite duo with paperbags on their hands. Semi-Sweet bounds over to them, followed by Half-Doomed who seems to be eyeing Pete up.

 

Semi-Sweet smiles and drops a bag on 20 Dollar Nosebleed's lap. "Cheese overload time set to 2 minutes for extra ooze, just the way you like it! And as for you Tiff," he drops another bag, "Hawaiian. Ew."

 

"Thanks!" 20 Dollar Nosebleed exclaims, while Tiffany Blews rolls his eyes. "Fuck off, sparkleface."

 

Half-Doomed points at Pete, "What's he doing in here?"

 

"Pete! What a not so pleasant surprise!" Semi-Sweet has sudden venom on his tone, plopping down beside 20 Dollar Nosebleed and opens another pizza pocket. "Do you wanna shove another cube but in my throat this time?"

 

“I didn’t know Centuries would do that, I have no control over him.” Pete defences, tightening his hold on the notebook a little. He won’t let Disloyal Order duo talk him down like this. Pete understands that they’re written to somewhat piss Pete off, but he won’t back down just because Patrick wrote them.

 

There it is. His growing worry of where the original Patrick could be. It’s like in this world, he doesn’t exist. But that isn’t right, Pete thinks, if these songs are existing, for sure his Patrick is somewhere.

 

“But you have control on what you write, am I correct? So why write someone violent?” Half-Doomed puts a hand by his stomach, which looks like he’s trying to get a good feel of the cube inside him. Pete suddenly feels sympathetic for this song; Half-Doomed doesn’t deserve something like this.

 

Another thing. What is the cube for?

 

“I cannot answer that.” Pete responds with a stern tone. He’s clearly not wanted in this room so he stands up, but Tiffany Blews pulls Pete’s ankle, causing the bassist to topple to the floor with a loud groan.

 

“You can’t leave yet. Fix this shit, Wentz.” Tiffany Blews bellows, dragging Pete far from the door, who’s flailing a little.

 

20 Dollar Nosebleed swallows down a piece of his food before he says, “You’re the reason why he has that thing inside him. We simply cannot let you escape just like that.”

 

“Fine, fine. I’ll help. I think that’s one of the reasons why I’m here. I’m not going to cause you more harm, I just wanted to get a clue they left here for me to find. They told me there’s one in every room.” Pete raises his hands in surrender, dropping the notebook on the floor near Half-Doomed. The song takes it and flips the pages before Pete can even protest.

 

“Well, golly-me. The clue you’re looking for is inside my twin. There’s nothing else they left here but that.” Semi-Sweet grunts as he tears off the wrapper of his pizza pocket and takes a mouthful.

 

Pete sighs in defeat. There must be a way to get the cube without hurting Half-Doomed, but right now he can only think of cutting the song’s stomach open and plunge his hand in to grab it out. He glances at the one possessing his notebook, who has his eyebrows scrunched together.

 

“There’s a guy that can help us but I don’t trust him.” Half-Doomed passes back the notebook with an open page. “I think you know why.”

 

Pete checks the page, seeing Death Valley’s profile. He scans it over, reading through some stuff about how grotesque Death Valley could be. But the note in red ink under the page catches his full attention and now he knows why Half-Doomed showed it to him.

 

[notebook note #2 - death valley](http://i.imgur.com/J0Vajz9.png)

 

Pete doesn’t need to be told twice, he knew Death Valley isn’t the most tamed out of the group. He shivers a little on what he read about Young Volcanoes turning out to be like that from Death Valley’s operations. How could Young Volcanoes possibly agree on anything remotely morbid? Aside from that, can the little guts and glory sew in his stomach so people won’t get too disgusted by him?

 

Also, he’s from Save Rock and Roll. Of course Half-Doomed won’t trust him so easily.

 

“Death Valley’s your only hope to get it out of you.” Pete states, looking at all of them. Aside from a frowning Half-Doomed, he sees them gazing at the former with worried looks.

 

Tiffany Blews clasps his hands together, taking a sharp breath. “If that’s the only option, then let’s go.”

 

“But it’s Death Valley we’re talking about, Tiff! That guy is an obvious bad news!” Semi-Sweet barks, throwing his hands in the air as if he’s done with Tiffany Blews’ bullshit.

 

“Death Valley never did us any harm, though. He’s really nice once you get to talk to him. The intestines hanging off the open stomach makes him look like he’s a bad song but he’s otherwise. Trust me, I’ve been hanging out with him and Young V in the courtyards during on afternoons for a while now. He’s trying to fix my nosebleed problem.” 20 Dollar Nosebleed marvels, smiling at the thought. “They’re pretty funny too, especially if you add Miss Missing You in the equation.”

 

“I still don’t trust him, but okay. As long as he can help.” Half-Doomed stands up, lending a hand to Semi-Sweet who reluctantly takes it.

 

Pete knows he’s going to kill time if he continues to linger around so he immediately walks out of the room, taking a few look backs to see if they’re following him. He remembers how the eras are divided, kind of like a turf war so he can quite understand why the Folie group’s aura changed from _‘it’s Pete’s death sentence’_ to _‘holy shit, we are not going to see the light of day after this’._

 

Pete’s eyes switches looks between three black doors. If his hunch is right, Death Valley’s room is the middle door, considering the placement of the songs in the album and the traces of bloodstains at the foot of the door. He knocks carefully, praying he’s right and it’s not The Mighty Fall who’s in there. He glances at the songs behind him, who are pretty much praying the same thing.

 

The door flies open, causing Pete to automatically raise his arms to shield himself from any impact. Instead, he gets a raucous laugh from Death Valley and a small chuckle from 20 Dollar Nosebleed.

 

“Pete, 20 Dollar, hey! I see you brought Folie people. Never had this many Folie in East wing.” Death Valley leans on the doorframe, giving them all a huge grin.

 

“We’re not here to stay long, Death. I want to ask if you can help us take something out of Half-Doomed.” Pete returns the expression with a small nervous smile.

 

“Sure! I’d help out friends!” Death Valley leads them in, stopping near a framed photo of a snake wrapped around a red apple. Pete swallows a lump on his throat. It reminds him so much of the Youngblood Chronicles. Guess it implemented on the songs themselves, since their actions and appearances are somewhat similar to what they executed in the videos. He just can’t shake the feeling of dread, the feeling of this all happening because he’s here.

 

Tiffany Blews hushes out a small “We’re not your friends” under his breath but Death Valley did not catch it.

 

“Thing is,” the gutted song takes a step forward to Half-Doomed, “for me to help you, you have to put your faith in me. This is something that requires a lot of heart and trust. And I want you to trust me on this. Just once, please put the past between Folie and Rock n’ Roll in the gutter for a while.”

 

“Say yes, and he’ll do it well. I swear to you.” Miss Missing You says, crossing his heart and raises his hand.

 

Half-Doomed considers bailing. This can go wrong in a blink of an eye. He didn’t want to die because of a SRAR song again, not to mention it’s Death Valley they’re facing here. Dying makes him feel like he’s slipping and fading away into existence. He ponders maybe he can just let the cube stay inside him forever, since Centuries told him it’s something very important and it needs to be hidden away, plus he doesn’t feel like helping Pete at all. But his heart tells otherwise. He needs to help the person that made Patrick write him as much as he doesn’t care about the ever so glorious Pete Wentz.

 

He looks at Death Valley with a determined expression. “Okay. Just this once, I trust you. After this, we’ll forget about it and be enemies again.”

 

“Do we need to?” Death Valley mumbles but no one caught it, masking the sad tone with a very excited one. “Alright, cool! So gentlemen, what I’m about to show you… you can’t tell the others, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just do it.” Semi-Sweet waves his hand, already irritated at their prolonged stay at the enemy domain.

 

Miss Missing You stands up from his bed and pulls Young Volcanoes’ sleeping figure off the bunk. He once-overs the visitors and drags the blind song to the bathroom with great struggle. “No contact with everything until it completely changed. You wouldn’t want any of your limbs stuck to a wall now, would you?”

 

“The fuck do you mea-“ Tiffany Blews cuts off when Death Valley quickly presses buttons behind the picture earlier, making everything transform into a medical room. The room switches its things into medical supplies and equipment, the beds turning into somewhat a hospital bed and the safe to put dead bodies in and the coffee table near the small stained couch is replaced by the stand lights. Everyone stares in awe, even Semi-Sweet with his scowl gone from the sudden magic.

 

Death Valley smiles brightly, taking a pair of sterilized gloves and a bottle of pills from a cabinet. “What do ya think? Pretty cool, huh.”

 

“How?” Pete chokes out, eyes widen at the ‘surgeon’. He can process his songs being people, yes, but rooms turning into something different like in the movies? Nope, Pete can’t take it.

 

“Immortals, baby. He’s one hell of a tinker-topper. Perks of having a techie friend. This room is not only a surgery room, it’s also an experiment lab. Aside from you guys and my roommates, Immortals and Fame are the only ones who knows about this.”

 

“I’m his labrat, by the way. Endured countless deaths from his experiments gone horribly wrong.” Miss Missing You utters once he put the sleeping song on the bathtub.

 

Death Valley shakes the bottle of pills in his hand and pulls Half-Doomed’s open hand, popping a small blue pill. Pete’s stomach churns at the sight, his head getting a little lighter just seeing it. He suddenly recalls Hum Hallelujah. How is that song in here?

 

“What’s this?” Half-Doomed asks, suspicion laced on his tone.

 

“Anaesthesia. Made from Novocaine’s blood, it lasts for an hour. Don’t worry, I used it many times on Miss Missing You already. Once you take it, the effect goes through your entire body after ten minutes. You’ll be completely numb from head to toe, but you’re very much alive.” Death Valley throws a disposable hospital gown at him and points to the bathroom, “Change into these.”

 

“Can we stay somewhere else? I don’t wanna see it.” 20 Dollar Nosebleed shyly perks up, rubbing his hands together with his head slightly turned down.

 

“Go back to the room, guys. I’ll be okay.” Half-Doomed gives them a smile before going inside the bathroom to change, though he’s silently assuring himself that he’ll be really okay.

 

Semi-Sweet wants to object leaving the room but he sees the look on his twin’s eyes that it’ll be a better idea not to be there while Death Valley is doing the operation. “I’ll be back after an hour.”

 

“I will inform you when it’s done.” Miss Missing You states, walking them out of the room. Pete stays behind, he wants to know what will happen. He’s curious on what they can do. Like somehow aside from being a Fall Out Boy song, they developed different attributes as they continued to exist.

 

“P-Weezy, might wanna change into this if ya wanna stay.” Death Valley passes him a scrub suit, a mask and a pair of gloves. Pete thanks him and puts them on. He notices Miss Missing You staying at the couch, hand under his chin watching them like he had seen this several times before. And maybe he did.

 

“How long do you think you’ll be doing this?” Half-Doomed inquires after emerging from the bathroom, taking the pill in his mouth and swallows it. He starts to feel a little cold as he lies down on the bed.

 

Death Valley stops getting scalpels and containers to look at him. “Usually it takes me twenty minutes to remove something from a host if I need them alive still. A minute if I’m being cruel.”

 

Suddenly Half-Doomed doesn’t want to do it anymore. What if it’s the latter? There’s still a hint of doubt whenever he catches Death Valley’s eyes on him. He’s nice… in a twisted way.

 

“We need him alive, Death.” Pete presses on, crossing his arms.

 

Death Valley laughs, “I’m bluffing, baby. Of course I’ll keep him alive. I don’t like hurting other songs just for my own happiness. That’s just plain disgusting.”

 

Pete rolls his eyes, then he focuses on how Half-Doomed just freezes over, only his chest moving up and down and his eyes blinking. There’s panic on the widened blue eyes. The pill’s effect has gone over his entire body.

 

“Alright, alright. Let’s see the dirt under your skin.” Death Valley twirls a scalpel between his fingers, smiling widely as if he found a new toy to play with. He pokes Half-Doomed’s stomach with his free hand to find where the cube could be. After a few soft pokes, his eyes flashes yellow in a split-second and he slices through the porcelain flesh, watching the trail of blood beginning to leak at the side of the song’s stomach. He makes a 2x2 cut, just at the top of where the cube is.

 

While Death Valley is in his zone, there are lots of things going through Pete’s mind. What if this is wrong? There’s a small voice inside his head that says it’s a very bad idea to let Death Valley dissect Half-Doomed like a frog, but at the same time, he needs the cube whatever it is for. It’s unnerving for Pete to witness a Patrick photocopy dying by the hands of another Patrick photocopy, no matter how ridiculous that sounds.

 

For now, he can go play with AB/AP to save Fame and probably most songs from their impending doom. He also needs to find where Patrick is. The poor guy might be very confused right now, just like Pete.

 

And just as Death Valley said, he was done twenty minutes later. He drops the bloody cube on a container, taking off his gloves and washing the instruments after. He looks over his shoulder to smirk at Pete. “Forty minutes.”

 

Forty minutes. Forty minutes until Half-Doomed goes back to his senses. There’s plenty of time to ask questions.

 

Pete picks up the cube from the container and runs it on the water to remove the blood. It’s just a small dark cube. Nothing special. Death Valley snatches it from his hands and takes a closer look. “Wait a sec. I think I’ve seen one of these before.”

 

“What? There’s more?” Pete asks in a shrill voice, completely wanting to request Death Valley to give him a scalpel to stab AB/AP when Pete finally sees him. If there are more of these, Pete will flip shit.

 

“I think so? Fuck, I have terrible memory. Hey Missin’, any idea?”

 

“No, I don’t remember anything like that, unless I wasn’t here when you saw it.” Miss Missing You walks over from where he was sitting and checks it out too.

 

They hear someone yawn from behind them, stomping his foot twice and coming up to them. “Hi. What did I miss?”

 

“Hey, Young V! There’s this thing here. Might wanna check it out.”

 

“Let me feel it.”

 

Death Valley puts the cube on Young Volcanoes’ palm, while Pete watches him trace the corners of it. Pete still can’t take seeing a second mouth on the song’s throat which shoots its tongue out and begins licking the cube.

 

Miss Missing You rolls his eyes, “Can your tongue stop tasting everything?”

 

“It adds to let me know what it is so stop bitching.” Young Volcanoes scoffs, wiping the saliva off on his shirt and hands it back to Death Valley. “I know what this is. I have one.”

 

“Say what now?” Pete steps forward, leaning closer to him.

 

“Yeah. Death, remember when Centuries asked us a favour months ago? He gave us a cube and told us to hide it since it’s something important.”

 

“Oh yeah! That’s it!” Death Valley exclaims happily, but then it dissolves into wonder. “Where did we hide it again?”

 

“In my eye socket.”  Young Volcanoes reaches onto the back of his head and tugs the knot free. Pete’s heart begins to beat faster. He’s not ready to see it, but he still didn’t look away. When Young Volcanoes finally get it off, he reveals the hollow reddened holes of where his eyes should be. On his right socket, a cube is jammed in. There’s little skin that looks like it was torn off and visible cracks of bones.

 

Young Volcanoes pulls it out and blood comes trickling down his cheek. It’s another 2x2 cube, and Pete is very shocked that it fit through an eye socket. “Here you go, Pete.”

 

Pete takes it in his hands and glances at the three. “You said Centuries gave it to you months ago?”

 

Death Valley nods, “We were questioning him too, but he didn’t say what it was for. He just told us to hide it and don’t let anyone know where it is.”

 

“He said someone will arrive in the plane and they will need it. I guess he was talking about you, Pete.” Young Volcanoes says, putting his blindfold on again.

 

Pete didn’t even ask on why Centuries knows he’ll arrive but at the same time, how did he really know _months_ before?

 

“How come you didn’t tell me? I wouldn’t tell anyone even if I know.” Miss Missing You frowns, crossing his arms.

 

“We figured it’s safer, also we don’t know what it’s for. It’ll just raise a lot more questions.” Young Volcanoes stomps his foot again, then points at the bed where Half-Doomed is. “Why is there a Folie song here?”

 

Pete now wonders how Young Volcanoes figured that out. He can’t see, so how can a blind song tell who’s who?

 

“Oh! That’s where the other cube came from. It’s inside Half-Doomed so I removed it from his stomach.” Death Valley chirps, looking over Half-Doomed who’s still numb. His eyes flicks back to Pete. “By the way, how did it get stuck inside him in the first place? Did he eat it?”

 

“No,” Pete involuntarily shivers at the thought, “it was forcefully shoved in his mouth by Centuries.”

 

“The fuck? When they said American psycho, Centuries really lives up to it. The other day I heard he used his chariot again to drag This Ain’t a Scene outside around the mansion. Who knows songs with fuckin’ pretty thighs can get this gruesome.” The black and white song shakes his head while still staring at the cube. Pete mentally ticks off another line on _‘Songs who has a thing for Centuries’ thighs.’_

 

For _Patrick’s_ thighs. Pete or may not have fantasized about those thighs that night after their Centuries music video shoot.

 

“It’s expected. He’s a fucking gladiator, Missin’. He’s written to be a psychopath too. A beautiful psychopathic gladiator.” Death Valley fawns a little, acting like a swoon-over fangirl.

 

“Geez, just fuck him already.” Young Volcanoes says that makes Pete choke on his spit. He coughs a couple of times, earning amused looks from the other three (well, two, since Young Volcanoes can’t see but Pete can tell he’s amused from the way the corners of his mouth twitched upwards).

 

“Oh Pete, baby. Do you wanna bang him too? Almost everyone fantasizes over Centuries secretly, you know.”

 

“N-no, it’s not that!” Pete places a hand on his chest as if to support his breathing. “Wait, does everyone really?”

 

“Nah, we’re kidding! Why would we fuck each other? We all look alike, for Pete’s sake!” Death Valley chuckles, “For _your_ sake! That would look really bad.”

 

Miss Missing You sticks his tongue out at Death Valley, “But you gotta admit if we’re allowed to… would you?”

 

“Totally, if he won’t rip my head off and use my intestines as a jumping rope first.” Death Valley winks, passing the first cube to Pete. “Missin’, get the tears. Let’s free Half-Doomed from his numbing misery.”

 

“Gotcha.” Miss Missing You goes through the cabinet and takes a clear bottle of water labelled _‘Tears of the innocent’_ , giving it to the gutted song _._ Before Pete can question it, Young Volcanoes pulls him aside to the couch and pushes Pete to sit down.

 

“If you’re going to ask what the fuck is that, the answer is everything Novocaine-related stuff, the solution to remove them is Jet Pack Blues. Usually his tears or just the rain from the cloud over his head works.”

 

“So, they’re like a two-in-one package when they’re together?” Pete concludes, gawking at the tongue roaming on the teeth of Young Volcanoes’ second mouth.

 

“They’re always together. So, yes.”

 

Pete nods knowingly, then turns to what Death Valley is doing. The song smiles at Half-Doomed, flicking a syringe twice. “Did you have fun, baby? Lemme get you up and goin’ now, shall we?”

 

He injects the liquid on Half-Doomed’s arm and throws the syringe away after doing so. Half-Doomed stares at him for a moment before slowly moving his hands and legs. He sits up, opening and closing his mouth for a moment. He begins feeling over the stitch on his stomach, not feeling any pain even if he presses hard.

 

“I can leave now, right?”

 

Death Valley nods, “You’re welcome.”

 

Pete didn’t see Miss Missing You leave the room so he might’ve jumped a little when Semi-Sweet barges into the room with him.

“Half-Doomed? You okay? Does it hurt? Are you alive?”

 

“Of course, he’s alive. Why would I kill him?” Death Valley puts a hand on his hip, squinting at Semi-Sweet.

 

The Folie songs scowls, tugging Half-Doomed’s arm and pulls him away from them. “I don’t trust you.”

 

“That’s fine,” The gutted song mumbles, coding back the room to its original look.

 

Semi-Sweet rolls his eyes and leaves the room. Half-Doomed lingers a little bit and watches the room change before saying, “Thanks.”

 

“No problem, anytime.” Miss Missing You smiles at him and closes the door.

 

Pete takes his clothes and changes into his own in the bathroom. While he’s at it, he starts to ponder about the cubes. Sure these are for something in the future. Then the next questions pop up. Are there more? If there are, where could they be? Will he find them all in time?

 

When Pete goes back to the main room, Death Valley and Young Volcanoes are sleeping again while Miss Missing You is polishing his revolver. He looks up and smiles at Pete. “Good luck.”

 

“Thanks for all the help. I owe you guys one.” Pete returns the smile and comes out of the room.


	5. It’s Story Time, Brought to You by the Bomb Squad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting for a long time! I had to do my college work.
> 
> w: long paragraphs

Pete takes a deep breath again before going back to West wing. He hears a couple of tumbling and talking at the rooms he passes, a sharp laugh and shots fired. Whatever that is, Pete doesn’t want to get involved.

 

He almost bumps onto a song near the staircases, with Pete just stopping his foot by a millimetre. The song smirks at him, running a hand on his feathery hair. “Would you look at that, the four-lettered lover himself.”

 

“Uh, hey?” Pete isn’t sure how to react, but he couldn’t help get caught in the song’s scent. He smells like chocolate, like those chocolate-scented cigarettes Joe made Patrick try once on tour.

 

Pete steps back a bit, eyes studying all over the other’s appearance. Leather jacket over striped blue green and black top, tight black jeans, combat boots and a black leather whip strapped on his belt. One thing Pete is completely sure: he’s an American Beauty / American Psycho song.

 

“Pete. The invisible man knows a lot of things. Things about the future. If you’re seeking him, he’s at the rotunda in front of a parallel universe by the sweetest melodies you’ll ever hear. Beware of the lion; he’s taking a little bit of bloodlust towards the gazelle.” The song leans over to Pete, the chocolate smell gets stronger and kisses his cheek, then whispers to Pete’s ear. “The truth will catch up to you eventually.”

 

The song walks to the East wing, disappearing from Pete’s line of vision. He takes note about the invisible man in the rotunda for later. He goes back to the West wing corridor and does the same method of picking a door earlier and his index finger lands on another red door. Pete groans, knocking twice. No one answers.

 

He shrugs and goes in anyways, earning a lightning arrow just above his head. Pete yelps, looking around where it came from.

 

“Oops, sorry! Thought you’re Irresistible. He keeps on bugging my ass for a long while now.” A voice says coming from the ceiling, and Pete looks up to see a grinning Not-Patrick sitting on a hammock. He doesn’t dismiss the lightning bow and arrow aimed at Pete which makes the latter nervous.

 

“Why is he bothering you?” Pete asks, biting his bottom lip. He wants to earn trust as much as he can, no matter how dangerous they are.

 

“He wanna see what would it look like if I charge his whip and how painful would it be if it hits flesh.” The song finally dismisses his weapon and jumps down to get a satchel. “I know why you’re here for, Peter. They didn’t leave anything here for you but…”

 

He grabs a couple of stuff from the drawers such as a first aid kit, flashlight, lighter, a handkerchief and a loop of tread and needle. He takes Pete’s notebook and two cubes from the former’s hands and stuffs it inside the bag and tosses it at Pete.

 

Pete scopes the room while the song is busy finding something. It’s like the first Folie room but messier and it has maroon walls instead of red. There’s nothing distinctive in the room other than a yellow top hat sitting on a top bunkbed.

 

“Who’s with you in here?”

 

The song stops shovelling down a drawer and shrugs at him. “Suitehearts, Headfirst Slide and Gold Standard. They’re… somewhere. They’re usually out in the day lingering who-knows-where.”

 

Pete mentally drafts the song list of the Folie album. If he is correct, this song right in front of him is She’s My Winona.

 

_‘And daddy said you gotta show the world the thunder.’_

 

Lightning powers is close enough to make this song unique.

 

“Winona, you didn’t finish what you were going to say earlier. They didn’t leave anything in here but what?” Pete puts on the satchel and cups it a couple of times to feel the cubes inside.

 

“Oh, uh. A little birdie told me that if you didn’t find the three cubes until midnight, one of the songs precious to you will die painfully.” She’s My Winona walks to him and places a switchblade in Pete’s hand. “Take this with you. When you meet Suitehearts and the other two, ask them about how to use the cubes. Better yet, give the cubes to them. They’ll be glad to help such a troubled soul like you.”

“Okay, thanks for the advice and the stuff, Winona.” Pete gives him a weak smile, already backing up to the door. As much as he likes to stay, he has to find the third cube before midnight. He has no time to play around.

 

“Sure thing, Pete. Stay safe.” She’s My Winona goes back to his hammock and swings his legs back and forth. Pete decides that’s the cue for him to get out of there.

 

He goes up to the third floor to find the rotunda. Maybe the invisible man, whoever that is, can help him. Irresistible also said he’s in front of a mirror by the sweetest melodies you’ll ever hear. Sweetest melodies, that’s what he wants to know. It could be another song or Patrick himself.

 

He finds the rotunda door slightly open, and Pete peeks through it and sees someone playing the piano. It sounds very familiarly sad and sure enough it’s sweet melodies. Pete silently comes up behind the song and clears his throat, making the song mess up a note and swiftly stands away from the piano.

 

“Pete! I’m so glad you’re here!” The song flings himself onto the bassist, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzles his head on his shoulder. Pete involuntarily wraps his arms around him too and breathes in the song’s scent.

 

The distinct smell of the sea.

 

“What a Catch, Donnie?” It comes out more of like a question than a statement.

What a Catch, Donnie lets go of him and nods enthusiastically. “The one and only! Oh gosh, Pete, you have no idea how happy I am right now!”

 

“I’m happy to see you too, Donnie.” He brushes his thumb on What a Catch, Donnie’s cheek, making the latter blush deep red.

 

“Want me to play something for you?”

 

\--

“By the way, is the invisible man here?” Pete observes the huge mirror behind the piano, thinking maybe he can get a glimpse of someone moving if Pete mentions him.

 

What a Catch, Donnie stops playing the piano and glimpse at Pete’s curious expression then looks at their reflection in the mirror. “Pavlove left a while ago. He said the lion asked for him.”

 

_Here we go again with the nicknames_ , Pete groans in his thoughts before asking, “Who’s the lion? Irresistible said he’s taking a little somethin’ somethin’ gazelle.”

 

The Folie song is quiet for a while, just staring at Pete using the mirror. He opens his mouth to say something but quickly shuts it. Pete puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes a little. “Donnie?”

 

“It’s… it’s Centuries.” What a Catch, Donnie now turns his head to fixate his eyes on Pete’s. “I’d say you come back later. Though there’s a great possibility that Pavlove will either won’t be back until two days later or he’ll go back here terrified and shaken up. There’s no guarantee you can get out fine after dealing with the lion.”

 

Pete only nods in response. Is that how violent Centuries is? He asks himself, is that how violent he wrote Centuries? Because Pete can’t take anymore of anything Centuries-related. Is he really that bad that everyone fears him?

 

“A-alright, I’ll be back later. Keep safe, Donnie.” Pete doesn’t think twice and kisses the top of the song’s head and walks out. His stomach rumbles, and Pete realizes he hasn’t eaten lunch yet. He feels the pocket of his jeans and finds them phone-free. He honestly can’t tell what time it is anymore but he knows it’s late.

 

Pete figures maybe going down for dinner is the best idea for now. He’s starting to get a little woozy from all this hunting. But before he could even take a step down the stairs, someone drags him towards a terrace and pushes him on the railing.

 

“Please, I just want to eat! Can we take a fucking brea- what?” Pete stops praying for mercy and peers on his captors. There are four of them from different albums so Pete concludes they’re another group of similar song vibe.

 

There are three pre-hiatus songs and an obvious Save Rock and Roll song, from the way he dresses alike apart from the maroon shirt underneath. From the belts of grenades on his chest and waist, this is Rat a Tat. The first pre-hiatus one is holding a tray of fish sticks and burgers, wearing a red hoodie and jeans. There’s somewhat red lipstick-drawn X on his left eye. The second one is sitting on the ledge playing with the pin of a grenade, dressed in black shirt and ripped jeans and then lastly, a song like the former one but in denim jacket.

 

Pete racks his brain out for songs related to bombs. He doesn’t remember anyone.

 

“Oh, hush Pete. We won’t hurt you. We just want to give you dinner.” The one holding a tray says, giving the food to Pete with a sweet smile.

 

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to bring me food. I can just go down there and get some.” Pete says, but bites on a burger anyways.

 

Rat a Tat shakes his head, “If you go down the dining area or any part of the first floor, you’ll get crowded and more or less likely killed. We’re over a hundred songs, Pete. Stay here.”

 

“Oh.” Pete didn’t think about that. Of course, everyone will be there. Even the dangerous ones. He eyes the four of them who’s just enjoying the breeze. “So, uhhh… How is the system here in the mansion? I haven’t asked anyone about how this whole shit works.”

 

“Well, it’s kinda complicated at first especially if you’re newly made. The songs are divided into either by era, by musical vibe or by pre or post-hiatus. The mansion is also divided into turfs. Songs like us, we’re all about explosions and bombs and shit. We stay here in the terrace or on the roof.” The one playing with a grenade perks up, now looking at Pete.

 

“There’s the fire dudes in the living room. You can’t stay there unless they permitted you to. The Phoenix is in charge, he might be all hyper and whatever but when he gets mad, everything he’ll see is just red. Kitchen’s for Infinity on High folks. G.I.N.A.S.F.S. is usually there along with his roommates like Lawyer and Ringing. The kitchen is only open for all when it’s past five in the evening until six am. Never go to the kitchen at three am. Saturday is there. Dining area is where the other Rock and Roll songs hang out, except for The Mighty Fall and Just One Yesterday, who lingers at the porch. The lounge area is usually just Fame but he’s pretty nice so he lets us hang there. The attic has Folie written all over it, while the basement is for Cork Tree and AB/AP.

 

“If you’ll go outside, there are some Grave guys around, usually near the woods. The parking lot belongs to World’s Not Waiting, Hum Hallelujah and American Made. Pax-AM roam the hallways, so be careful with dealing with them. They’re all drunk and violent and angry. There are some rooms in the mansion specifically for a song, like the sewing room. It’s for Snitches and Talkers. Don’t go in there unless you want to be his new doll. Just…” Rat a Tat sighs in slight annoyance, “be very _very_ careful.”

 

“You must’ve explored the West and East wings by now, right?” Lipstick face starts, but didn’t wait for Pete to reply when he continues. “The only pre-hiatus album residing in the East wing along with the post ones is the Cork Tree. We’re not in good terms with Folie because of the whole Light ‘Em Up incident.”

 

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of that. Phoenix said Save Rock and Roll made Light angry that’s why he burned all of Folie?” Pete swallows down a portion of the burger, now getting himself comfortable because he can sense this would be a very long storytelling time. He finally figures who’s who. The one with the lipstick is XO, and then there’s Grenade Jumper and then the last one… he still isn’t sure but judging from how young he looks, it could be Switchblades and Infidelity. XO isn’t about bombs, but why is he with them?

 

“That’s one thing, but it wasn’t the start of the divide.” Grenade Jumper removes the pin of the grenade he’s holding and threw it on the field, watching it explode and creating a hole on the ground. “I was there when Light ‘Em Up first popped up in front of the mansion. He was the first song to appear after three long years of thinking no more songs are going to be made after Folie. At first we all ignored him, thinking it could just be a random song you guys wrote to catch up with each other and he’ll probably be gone after a few days tops but when he stayed there at the parking lot for at least a week, bursting into flames from time to time, that’s when we got the hint that he’s a new upcoming single.

 

“No one dared going up to Light to ask for his title. We all called him ‘Fire dude’ because of obvious reasons, but we simply just ignore him all the time even the ones who are staying in the parking lot. That’s when the Folie guys started to mess with him. They were so pissed at you, because we actually believed Fall Out Boy is done because you lil fuckers made a Greatest Hits album. First, Headfirst plays with Light’s thoughts, turning them into morbidity and making Light turn against himself. Then, I Don’t Care threw water balloons at Light whenever he bursts into flames, so there were a time when Light just sat there shivering his ass out ‘cause he can’t generate flames. Take Over tried giving him a towel whenever he was drenched but bitch Tiffany Blews told him to lay off or he’ll die.

 

“It went on for weeks, even after we heard the news that Fall Out Boy got back together and the plane reformed the mansion with more rooms fit for a whole album. When Fame announced that, Winona shot Light in the chest with his arrows, electrocuting him. Light died, but came back after a day. That’s when The Phoenix and the rest of Save Rock and Roll popped up.”

 

“You wanna know what it’s like forming into a human base?” Rat a Tat widens his smile, clasping his hands together. “It was like a thousand riffs piercing through your ears, molding you into a shape like clay then you’ll hear static before your melodies absorb into your own body. Based on what Patty-boy looks like while you were written, that’s what your body will be. It’s fun in a very horrific way, because it’s deafening.”

 

Pete gapes at them, dropping a fish stick back to the tray. “I… wow.”

 

Rat a Tat laughs, sitting beside Pete. “I know, right? Anyway, so yeah we finally came here in the plane like new cupcakes fresh from the Fall Out Boy oven. We saw how wet Light was and asked what’s up with him since he looks just like us. And judging from the way he first stared at us like _‘holy shit you guys are my fam please save me from these assholes’_ kind of look, we know he’s not being treated right. So Phoenix, being a first track that he is and may or may not had love at first sight from the drenched ball of fire dunno how that works, confronted Headfirst, who’s the main bitch of Folie. He asked what’s his problem and Headfirst said nothing. We didn’t mind them since, except I Don’t Care continued to throw water balloons at Light.

 

“Y’know, Light has a low blow despite being an unstable song. He never once tried to tell them to stop bothering him. And then one day, after then again Light receiving watersports, Save Rock and Roll decided to be a huge dick to him and pushed Light to his limit. Okay. Light ‘Em Up is bad at receiving degrading words and hate. Save Rock and Roll told him how much of a lame hit he is, followed by _‘you shouldn’t have been written’_ and _‘you are the worst track in the album, that’s why they hate you’._ In addition to what Folie did to him, something triggered inside Light that he just bursts into white flames and killed Save Rock and Roll and all of Folie, even the ones who didn’t even do anything to him.

 

“After the whole entourage, the division was made. The tension between Folie à Deux and Save Rock and Roll never died, in fact it only got heavier when you released American Beauty / American Psycho.”

 

Switchblades and Infidelity joins in, taking a stick of dynamite from his jacket and twirling it around his fingers. “After release of that hell of an album, everything love-struck and bittersweet happiness went down the drain. We live in fear of the lion slaying us, the psychopath playing us around, the soldier shooting all our hopes down, the puppet dealers taking control and the masochist getting pleasure in seeing us in vain.”

 

Pete observes them, their expressions growing into worry and exasperation as they tell him everything. He doesn’t know what to do with both parties anymore. Who’s the bigger evil in this? Pete knows he can do something to fix it, but right now all he needs to do is save someone who’s about to die by midnight. Find the cubes, save the song, fix the war between pre and post-hiatus, and then go home.

 

“I promise you, I’ll do something about it. Right now, I need to find the third cube before midnight.” Pete stands up and wipes the grease from his fingers on his jeans. “Thank you for the dinner and the history. By the way, why didn’t you eat with me?”

 

“Eating is like having ice cream in the middle of a winter storm. Very unnecessary. Most of us only eat because they wanted to feel a little bit human. Although, there are some of us who never tried anything.” Grenade Jumper says, laughing a little.

 

XO takes the tray from him, nodding slightly. “You only have seven more hours, honey. Go find the cube!”

 

“I won’t let you down.” Pete crosses his heart and waves goodbye to them. He goes to the hallway which is echoing something rolling on the floor.

 

He takes a glimpse on his right, seeing someone slowly walking towards him as he drags an oxygen tank behind him. The look on the song’s eyes say he means business, so Pete freezes on his spot just waiting for the song to stop in front of him. Judging from the leather jacket and punk demeanour with having trouble breathing, Pete easily knows he’s Eternal Summer.

 

Eternal Summer takes something from his pocket and hands it to Pete when he got to Pete’s side. Pete cautiously picks it from the song’s shaking hand and sees his phone. Pete scrunches his eyebrows down, glancing up to Eternal Summer. “Where did you get this?”

 

The song only breathes through the mask, lifting his hand on Pete’s face and flips him off. Then, he walks back to where he came from and vanishes to the corner. Pete sighs loudly, sitting on the floor with his phone in hand. He turns it on, seeing the lockscreen. It’s a picture of him and Patrick on stage, one of Pete’s selfies with his most favourite man in the whole wide world. Pete smiles, remembering him just coming up to Patrick saying he wanted to take a selfie with him. As much as Patrick is kind of camera shy around Pete, he agreed anyways.

 

He misses Patrick so much.

 

Sure, he spent the whole day dealing with songs that are Patrick photocopies but no song beats the real one. Pete just wants to see him badly, even if he had to go wreck the mansion down to see him.

 

Pete decides to check out his phone and when he opens it, he finds himself staring at a two minute video. He’s certain this is either a video of him at their after tour party or someone used his phone to record something. Either way, they’re both making Pete nervous.

 

He shrugs, thinking ‘fuck it’ and just taps the video. It shows AB/AP outside the rotunda. _“Hey, Pete! Seems like you’ve met Donnie. You’re asking about Pavlove? Hah don’t worry, he’s safe under Centuries’ grip. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you about your time extension.”_

AB/AP starts to walk away from the rotunda door and go downstairs, just passing by the Bomb squad’s terrace. _“48 hours must be too short, and you’re quite an idiot at these things.”_

“I’m not an idiot, I’m just so confused! You all look like Patrick and it’s killing me! And this goddamn mansion is so big, how the fuck can I find small cubes?” Pete asks a loud, almost throwing the phone across the hallway.

 

_“Pete, sweetie, if you’re asking me shit… well I can’t hear you.”_ AB/AP laughs a bit, passing the phone to his other hand since he’s getting a little tired on the other. _“You have three days. By every midnight, a song will have their end if you failed to accomplish tasks. Pretty sure right now, you have two cubes and you only have a few hours left until midnight.”_

Pete pauses the video and peers at the clock, seeing the white 6:08PM. He groans, playing the video again.

 

_“A clue to where the next cube is… it’s in a closet. Good luck!”_ Then, the video ends.

 

_A closet? There are so many rooms in this house, how can I find it in time?_ Pete asks himself as he gets up and goes downstairs. He could go through the rooms again, but it’ll take Pete more time.

 

An idea pops in his head. If he isn’t really an idiot, maybe the third cube is in a closet next to a song he very much know who’ll stay inside one.


	6. Either Elsa from Frozen Visited or Pete Really Just Made an Ice Song Furious

It didn’t take Pete long to find where the Cork Tree rooms were, considering XO already told him it’s in the East Wing. After having two door mistakes, he finally opens the right maroon door, having himself greeted by an aftermath of a snowstorm.

 

(He encountered Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying, who told him to fuck off; Our Lawyer, who showed Pete his entire wardrobe of clashing clothes from 2005; I Slept With Someone…, who gave him a vial of what he said is the ‘Youth serum’; Sophomore Slump and Champagne For My Real Friends attempting to burn Dark Alley’s sideburns while 7 Minutes in Heaven is in a corner, sitting in fear of getting burned next.)

 

Pete swipes his arms around to remove the snow near the door and steps inside. He can see the smoke coming from his mouth when he breathes out. It’s extremely cold in here, and it didn’t help the fact that Pete is only wearing a shirt. He’s sure this is Sugar, We’re Goin Down’s room but he doesn’t remember writing snow songs in Cork Tree unless Elsa from Frozen paid a little visit in this room.

 

“Uh… Hi, P-Pete.”

 

Pete glances up from his snow-covered shoes, seeing another pre-hiatus Not-Patrick standing in the middle of the room, with his lower extremities frozen to the ground. He’s wearing a light grey suit with his long hair slick back and a nervous smile plastered on his face. Pete wants to laugh loudly at how awkward and adorable he is. This is definitely Dance, Dance.

 

“Where did the snow come from?” He asks, making his way to the song.

 

Dance, Dance sighs, running his fingers on his tie multiple times. “N-Novocaine didn’t want t-to do it, but he d-did it anyways. Been s-stuck l-like this for a f-few hours now. Well, i-it can’t get much w-worse, right?”

 

“No one should ever feel like.” Pete mumbles, seemingly to himself but Dance, Dance hears it, who groans.

 

“This isn’t f-funny, I can’t feel m-my legs anymore.”

 

“I know, babe, I’m sorry. Why did he freeze your room anyways?” Pete can’t see anything but _snow_ , so it’s going to be hard to go waddle his way to the closet at the other side of the room.

 

“H-He said a c-cube m-must be hidden away, it’s i-in the closet with S-Sugar.” Dance, Dance points at the said closet, then sighs quietly. “T-to be honest, I n-never signed up for t-this. I w-wanted to grab lunch w-when Novo dashed in here and w-went full b-blizzard on us. I still don’t k-know if Sugar is o-okay in there.”

 

Pete shakes his head slightly, kicking a few snows out of the way. “Look, Dance. I’ll get you out of there but I need to grab the cube first.”

 

“A-alright, I think I-I can wait.” The song nervously smiles at him.

 

Pete feels bad for him. He tumbles around the snow and onto the front of the closet, opening the doors swiftly. A small yelp comes from the antlers-sporting song sitting under the rows of sweaters and coats, looking perfectly fine despite having a snow storm outside his confined little space. Aside from the familiar blue shirt underneath a jacket, he’s also wearing gloves to prevent his fingers from having freeze bites from the ice block beside him.

 

Sugar, We’re Goin Down’s frightened face dissolves into a warming smile, like it’s enough to melt the ice and snow in the room. “Petey!”

 

“Hello, Sugar! You look so comfy in there, huh.” Pete tries to go inside the closet with him but he gets pushed back out, falling to the floor. He sits up with a confused expression. “What just happened?”

 

“You can’t go in here unless I permit you to.” Sugar, We’re Goin Down says with a teasing grin. “Petey, you are now allowed to go inside.”

 

Pete carefully crawls in beside him, the cold gone once he buries himself under the clothes above him. He figures this closet Sugar, We’re Goin Down considers as his safe haven has some sort of classic vampire system. He finds it cool, no matter how ironic that sounds since the closet is warm apart from the frozen wasteland outside the double doors. Sugar, We’re Goin Down closes the closet doors, and smiles sweetly at Pete. “It’s the cube, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah.” Pete nods, and the song slides him the ice block which contains the black cube in the middle of it. He lifts the block up to his lap, which is surprisingly warm despite it’s ice. It’s also quite heavy too, Pete adds in thought. “How am I supposed to get that shit off this ice block?”

 

“Um… from as long as I can remember, the only people who can melt Novocaine’s ice are either Jet Pack Blues or Novocaine himself. They’re at the last blue green door across the hallway.”

 

“Oh yeah, thanks. Be back later.” Pete opens the closet door with the ice block in his arms, saluting at Sugar, We’re Goin Down. The song licks his fingers twice and salutes, just like Pete did in the music video. Pete chuckles, reclosing the closet door and turning to the shivering Dance, Dance. “Babe, I’ll get Novocaine to release you from this state. I’ll be back, yeah?”

 

“O-okay, p-please hurry, the c-cold’s starting t-to go u-up my body.” Dance, Dance ghostly whispers, unable to have that much voice from how extreme the cold is.

 

It’s like out of habit, since he does it a lot to Patrick whenever the guy is nervous, but Pete places a small kiss on Dance, Dance’s forehead as a sign of assurance. He doesn’t hesitate, nor want to take it back. Pete leaves the room and appreciates the warm temperature outside. The talking and objects being moved never stopped, but Pete couldn’t care less. He walks up to the last blue green door with small Sharpie-drawn snowflakes near the doorknob, like it’s a huge hint that it’s the right room he needs to go in. He knocks, hoping these Psychos have at least a little sympathy for helping Pete out.

 

The door opens, revealing a song in a long black coat with a cloud over his head. It’s currently raining small ice particles. “Oh, hi Pete.”

 

“Is Novocaine in there? I need help.” Pete shows the ice block to which Jet Pack Blues winces, but nods.

 

“Come inside.” He opens the door wide and lets Pete walk in. Two more songs looks up to him and one of them scoffs when he sees the ice block on Pete’s arms.

 

Irresistible snickers, getting up from the bean bag and patting Pete’s shoulder. “À bientôt, mon chéri.” Then he leaves them in a subtle silence.

 

Pete doesn’t understand what Irresistible said but even from a Patrick photocopy, he finds it hot to hear Patrick speaking in French. He eyes the other song sitting by the window, creating small ice pictures on the window pane. His clothes are similar to what Irresistible is wearing, but with a black shirt instead and black gloves covering his power-infused hands. The expression on his face shows anger, though from the gentle glide of his fingers on the pane tells he’s calm. His skin is almost white and his hair has a streak of electric blue on his bangs. What make Pete take a small step backwards are his eyes. The usual bright blues that seemed to change colour are fixated on just dubious pastel cyan.

 

For Pete, this is how he exactly pictured Novocaine.

 

“Novocaine? Can you please unfreeze this block?”

 

“Sorry, but I can’t. If they find out I melted the ice to help you fasten your way to get it, I’d be dead by morning.” Novocaine grunts, turning away from the frowning bassist.

 

Pete feels a strike of annoyance deep inside, he’s getting really tired of hearing how much everyone fears AB/AP and Centuries. There’s a way to get these songs from getting into their head that those two are just like them, they can do something from their cruel ways other than hide in fear of dying.

 

“Are they really that powerful that you cower in fear whenever they’re brought up in the picture?” Pete drops the ice block to the ground, not caring if it lands with a loud thud. “Novocaine, you’re more powerful than both of them! I didn’t write you like this! _I wrote an angry song, not a pushover._ ”

 

He hears Jet Pack Blues gasp behind him but he didn’t take his eyes off of the icy song rising to his feet with now a wrathful gleam in his eyes. Novocaine clenches his jaw, taking off his gloves and cracking his knuckles. “Oh, so you want angry? I will show you angry.”

 

Suddenly, Pete realizes he made the biggest mistake in his life, aside from the attempt years ago. Pissing Novocaine off might be the dumbest thing he’s ever done in his stay in this plane.

 

“H-hey, uh, Novocai-“ Pete anxiously steps back, moving quickly to the door but the walls and the door become frosted with sharp icicles, all pointed at Pete. Wind keeps up, circling around Novocaine, who has his eyes now pure blue and full of hate, darts across the room and stares menacingly at Pete.

 

Ice starts to form on his shoulder, flowering until it covers his whole left arm. He doesn’t feel his arm anymore, like it’s completely gone from the attachment on his body. Pete raises his right hand to touch it but Jet Pack Blues screams out, “Don’t touch it! You’ll break your own arm into pieces!”

 

“Is this angry enough for you?!” Novocaine’s voice roars throughout the whirlwind of ice and snow, draping everything in place. He starts to walk towards the frightened bassist, fingertips glowing light blue.

 

At this point, Pete lost all his senses. All he can do is watch the monstrous ice song lurch towards to where he’s standing and wait for his freezing death. He says sorry to the songs he’ll let down in his mind, closing his eyes in the process.

 

“Novocaine, please stop! Don’t hurt him! He didn’t mean it, he just wants you to stand up for yourself!” Jet Pack Blues belts out, and Pete opens his eyes to see the small song with his arms around Novocaine, eyes shut tight and spilling a few tears. The cloud on his head is now pouring down light rain.

 

Novocaine stops on his tracks, slowly looking down on Jet Pack Blues’ arms around him. He shakes his head, the ice melting and snow disappearing. “Jet,” He mumbles breathlessly, “I… Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jet. I’m sorry.”

 

He spins his body to face the smaller song, wiping the tears away from Jet Pack Blues’ cheeks. It leaves tiny frost, decorating just under his eyes. Novocaine looks up to the rain cloud, touching it slightly to turn it into snow instead. “Did I hurt you?”

 

There’s something about the way Novocaine cares about Jet Pack Blues that makes Pete think about how he treats Patrick. Was it similar to this? He’s so sure Patrick is Pete’s kryptonite. He observes how Novocaine’s angered expression just turns in that of worry just by hearing Jet Pack Blues’ voice. How he suddenly changed demeanours in a blink of an eye, just to see if his partner is okay. How he wanted to assure himself he didn’t hurt him, even in the slightest.

 

Pete sees just how much Novocaine values Jet Pack Blues more than anything else. He puzzles in the deep connection between two songs, even if they’re different in terms of their own story. He finally realizes as to why some of the songs he encountered are partnered up into duos or trios. Here, it’s not about sticking up to what you’re supposed to be. It’s about finding someone who gets you, who knows how to ease you and cares about you just as much as how Pete is with Patrick.

 

They are different, they know that, but even so they stick together. It’s the same with these songs. And Pete can say that’s what makes these songs human.

 

“No, but you hurt Pete.” Jet Pack Blues sniffles, burying his face on Novocaine’s chest.

 

The ice song peruse at Pete, staring at the numbing left arm. “Oh.”

 

“Nah, man. It’s fine. But uh… can you unfreeze it?” Pete bites his lip, motioning to his arm.

 

Novocaine looks away from Pete, now pulling Jet Pack Blues closer to him. “That’s not easy to do if it’s flesh. Sorry, but you have to wait until it thaws.”

 

“But you would melt the ice block now, right?”

 

“Nope. We’re part of the game.”

 

Pete groans loudly, sliding down to sit on the floor and fixates on the ice block near the two songs. “Then how am I going to get the cube out? It’s not like someone else can melt it besides you.”

 

Jet Pack Blues pushes himself away from Novocaine and rummages a drawer, pulling out an ice pick. He gives it to Pete with a sad smile. “This is all we can do, Pete. We’re sorry about what happened. You have to get it out manually.”

 

Pete gapes at them, then at the ice pick, then at them again. “A-are you serious? With a numb arm?”

 

“If you want the cube before midnight strikes, I suggest you should go and start breaking it.” Novocaine returns back to where he was sitting before and puts back his gloves on. He glowers at Pete, “It’s the only way.”

 

Jet Pack Blues kneels in front of him and touches Pete’s arm before whispering, “The ice will be gone after two hours. Be happy your arm didn’t detach from your body. That would’ve been bad.”

 

“Definitely.” Pete chuckles, getting up from the floor. He opens the door and pushes the ice block out with his foot until it slides onto the other side near the Cork Tree area. “I guess, thanks for the ice pick.”

 

“Just give it back when you’re done. I kinda need it too when Novocaine accidentally freezes something and he’s on a panicked state.”

 

Pete grins at the image of Novocaine flinching out of surprise, freezing the things around him. He nods at Jet Pack Blues as a ‘see you later’ and trudges back down to Sugar and Dance, Dance’s room. Before he opens the door, he recalls the room is still frozen so Pete sheepishly goes back, knocking again. This time, Novocaine answers the door with the usual angry face.

 

“What do you want this time?”

 

“Can you unfreeze Dance, Dance? He’s starting to turn into an ice sculpture.” Pete muses, pointing at the maroon door with frost bites.

 

Novocaine widens his eyes, cheeks tinting a deep shade of blue. Pete raises his brow, finding it kind of cute. “Oh, god. Let me free them.”

 

He follows Pete to the room and scratches his head, looking at the mess he left for the poor Cork Tree songs to deal with. Dance, Dance just blinks at him, his teeth chattering at how insanely cold he is. Novocaine waves his hand, dismissing every snow and frost in the room like it was nothing. The awkward little song gasps for air, reaching for the blanket in the bed and wraps it around him. “I thought I was gonna die!”

 

“I apologize for the intrusion and the blizzard earlier. I was only following orders.”

 

“It’s the game, isn’t it?” Sugar, We’re Goin Down emerges from his closet, giving Dance, Dance a hug to warm him up. He glimpses at Pete’s arm, then at Novocaine who nods in response. “I suppose this is a challenge for Pete taking out the ice block. Kindly tell AB/AP he’s enjoying being Jigsaw from _Saw_ too much for his own good.”

 

“I’ll pass the message. See you around, you two. Tell Blue Locket I said hi when he gets back.” Novocaine smiles at them and sneers at Pete, then kicks the ice block further in the room.

 

Pete sighs, slumping down in front of the ice block and with the ice pick in hand, he begins to break it apart. Sugar, We’re Goin Down and Dance, Dance sits beside him and just cheer him on, speaking words of encouragement. Pete stops after taking a medium-sized ice part and lays his head on Dance, Dance’s lap.

 

“I’m so tired. Can you fill in for me, babe?”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Petey.” Sugar, We’re Goin Down perks up with an aggravated look on his face. “I have no idea how the game works but you’re the one who’s playing. This is your battle, and I think it’s you who’s supposed to be fighting with all his might.”

 

“It may seem like it’s impossible to get it out yourself but we believe you can do it. You have four more hours.” Dance, Dance runs his fingers through Pete’s hair, smiling a little.

 

The door opens and come in Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner with an exasperated expression, pouncing on his bed and burying his face on his pillow to scream.

 

“What happened, Blue Locket?” Sugar, We’re Goin Down asks, scratching the spot behind one of his antlers.

 

He faces the three on the floor, exhaling loudly. “I almost died from a car crash.”

 

“Let me guess, it’s World’s Not Waiting dragging you in a joyride again, isn’t it?”

 

Pete studies Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, or now dubbed as Blue Locket, closely. The song doesn’t really have any distinct feature as Sophomore Slump but the locket around his neck and shades of blues show the difference. He thought this song would be much of a type that lies in bed all day, as pertain for the lyric but Pete could only guess he’s wrong on that one.

 

Blue Locket pulls out a canteen from under his pillow and drinks a little before sitting up. ”Totally right about that one. He said there’s a liquor store in the makeshift town and we went there but all they got is beer so far.”

 

“Tough luck, but you never go out of gin though so I think that’s fine.” Dance, Dance shrugs, now playing with Pete’s hair by twirling his fingers on the dyed short locks.

 

“I’ve been out of kerosene. Somehow Doldrums fucking told Baby-G to forbid me to have more. He said it’s bad for my health. Like I fucking care, I run on gin and kerosene.”

 

Pete takes note of that. Blue Locket didn’t acknowledge Pete’s presence in the room, like he’s always there. Or maybe it’s just the gin taking him over.

 

“Guess you could say… you’re two quarters and a heart down.” Dance, Dance mutters under his breath, smiling a little at his joke. Pete snorts, sitting up to continue picking the ice block. His arm’s ice hasn’t thawed yet, so he still struggles to move much for he fears he will break his own arm in pieces.

 

Blue Locket clicks his tongue, poring over the block. “The fuck is that, Wentz?”

 

“I need to get the cube inside. It’s a game.” Pete briefly replies, frowning at the cube in the middle and goes picking the ice off.

 

“Oh yeah. I heard you and Psycho are playing Hide and Seek. Carpal Tunnel and Uma were talking about that earlier. You know,” Blue Locket leaves his bed to sit beside them, poking the ice block with his index finger. “Psycho has a reason to play this with you. It’s not just some petty welcome gift. Whatever the reason is, it’s something important. I suggest you shouldn’t complain about it and just do whatever the fuck you can.”

 

“He only has a few hours left before one of us dies if he fails to get the cube.” Sugar, We’re Goin Down informs, standing up and going back inside his closet.

 

“Why can’t he just go straight to the point? I don’t like games like this, especially if someone will get hurt.”

 

“Psycho is never straight to the point. That’s Kids Aren’t Alright you’re talking about if you want the blatantly-throw-at-your-face kinds of stuff. He’s kinda like Psycho’s little pet, though. Follows everything Psycho tells him to do.” Blue Locket smirks at him, then chugs down the gin left in his canteen.

 

Pete shakes his head while aggressively breaking the ice. The Kids Aren’t Alright following orders? That’s not right. He then remembers what Switchblades and Infidelity said.

 

_“… the soldier shooting all our hopes down…”_

 

If he’s sure, The Kids Aren’t Alright is a soldier out to follow every word AB/AP says. If he commands The Kids Aren’t Alright to kill songs, he would totally do it.

 

“Is there a possibility to have AB/AP stop whatever this all he’s doing? I can’t take anymore of this. I don’t really want anyone dead because of me.” Pete says, slumping his shoulders down in defeat.

 

“There were some already dead, Pete. This afternoon we found Ringing and Don’t You Know brutally murdered in the kitchen hallway. And then for some reason Chicago and Champagne had a rumble, knocking every shit around them. Chicago died, though. Poor asshole. Sucks to be him.”

 

Pete cannot describe how much he wants to throw up right now. He feels like he’s being sticked and stoned on the inside, breaking every rib and piercing through his lungs. Two songs are dead because of him. At this rate, there could be more.

 

“I don’t wanna risk you guys dying too.” Pete mutters, forcing all his might to break the ice. He doesn’t see it but the two give him this sorrowful look. In this plane, everyone is bound to die somehow. Maybe not at the feet of Five Bad Band (Twin Skeleton’s are counted as one since they’re one song divided into two), but by the plane itself. Who can tell how many people still remember them? They’re over a hundred songs, and they know they’re pretty old.

 

When Pete finally finished breaking the cube, it was already 11:30pm. The ice on his arm thawed around 9pm, which was convenient because he was in a state of panic before Blue Locket let him drink gin to loosen him out.  He stands up, holding the cube in his palm with a huge grin on his face.

 

Dance, Dance claps his hands lightly, “Way to go, Pete!”

 

“With thirty minutes to spare, wonderful job!” Sugar, We’re Goin Down pats Pete’s shoulder and points at the wall clock.

 

Pete happily puts the cube in his pocket and turns to them, showing up the ice pick. “I gotta return this to Jet Pack Blues. He said he needs it back after I’m done.”

 

“Alright, just don’t get yourself iced by Novocaine again. Usually around this hour he’s the only one who’s up in that room. Trust me, I know. I accidentally went in there once and there was a swift cold and the next thing I know, I was outside looking up at Saturday’s smug face.” Blue Locket scoffs, handing Pete a canteen. “Take this and drink if you need to feel a little numb.”

 

“Thanks. I’ll be careful.” Pete takes the canteen and tightens the lid a bit to prevent it for spilling then slides it in the satchel. He smiles at the three and opens his arms wide. Being from Cork Tree and the vintage Patrick having a knack for hugs in that era, the songs rush onto Pete and give him a tight squeeze. Pete laughs, brushing his hands against Sugar, We’re Goin Down and Blue Locket’s backs.

 

“Thank you for letting me stay in here a little while.”

 

“Oh, that’s no problem.” Dance, Dance blushes, looking up to Pete from burying his face on the bassist’s chest. “Thanks for reminding Novo about the blizzard in the room earlier.”

 

Blue Locket shoots out a little from the group hug with a sceptical look, “There was a blizzard?”

 

“Yeah. Novo said hi, by the way.” Sugar, We’re Goin Down smiles teasingly, which is returned by an eye roll.

 

“Fuck off, Novocaine.”

 

Pete chuckles, letting them all go. “I must find AB/AP, I can’t let him hurt Fame.”

 

“It’s pretty hard to find the psycho unless he wants to show up.” Dance, Dance shrugs as nonchalantly as he could, looking at his tie like it’s the most interesting thing in the room right now. He can’t look at Pete in the eye. Not that he has a feeling of dread washing over the poor man and it’s about to eat him.

 

Pete sighs and leaves the room after saying his thank you’s and goodbye’s. There’s a sudden chill in the air the moment he steps out. The hallway is illuminated by dimly lit lamps on either side of the doors, some already put out. And Pete notices it’s like it’s getting darker as he steps towards the snowflake-drawn door.

 

“Found-“

 

“-you.” Pete hears the small whispers before falling deep into the darkness.

 

When Pete wakes up, he’s sitting on a chair bounded by ropes. He couldn’t see anything since the room is very dark, but he can hear light breathing near his left. There’s a small whimper and shush, followed by something hitting skin. Someone yelps in pain, but it’s slightly muffled.

 

“H-hello? Who’s there? Please let me go.” Pete speaks out, obvious fear in his tone.

 

A light switches on just above Pete’s head, and he squints from its suddenness. Twin Skeleton’s emerged from the darkness and stands on either his sides. Skeleton #1 is holding Pete’s satchel with a look of wonder on his painted face.

 

“You two… let me go!” Pete squirms, tugging up his arm to see if it can loosen a little.

 

Skeleton #1 pats Pete’s shoulder, as if it’ll calm Pete down. “Sorry we said there’s-“

 

“-a surprise. Well, this is like a surprise. Do you-“ Skeleton #2’s voice is laced with assurance and regret, but Pete passes it as feigning mischief.

 

“-have the cubes with you, Pete?”

 

“Yes, it’s in the goddamn bag. Now you fucking twins better let me go or I swear I’ll totally take out the skeletons out of your bodies!” Pete scowls fiercely, possibly his eyes could vaporize Twin Skeleton’s now if not for Pete being so powerless. Twin Skeleton’s step back, slightly whimpering. Pete almost wants to say sorry but he doesn’t say anything else and stares at them.

 

“Pete, that’s not how you treat your own song. Don’t you yell at them.” A voice says, and then comes American Beauty / American Psycho holding an axe with a beaten up G.I.N.A.S.F.S. on his left.

 

“The he- you asshole! Why did you do this to him?! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Pete struggles on his bounds, attempting to get out of it so he can take G.I.N.A.S.F.S. away from the horrible songs in front of him.

 

“I-I’m… f-fine. P-Pete, it’s ok-okay.” G.I.N.A.S.F.S. whispers, barely keeping himself standing. AB/AP holds a firm grip on the small song’s waist to support him, and Skeleton #2 takes G.I.N.A.S.F.S. from AB/AP and let him sit on the floor, leaning onto Skeleton #2’s shoulder.

 

“Oh, but wasn’t he the perfect one to pick on? So helpless and small. So special to you, Pete.” An overdue smile appears on AB/AP’s face.

 

“Fuck you, AB/AP.” Pete growls, still tugging at the ropes.

 

AB/AP barks a short, humourless laugh. “Maybe later. Anyway, cubes.”

 

“I said, it’s in the bag. Look through it and you’ll see.” Pete grumbles, keeping his eyes on G.I.N.A.S.F.S. about to pass out. He needs to go take care of this guy. Pete can’t stand the fact that G.I.N.A.S.F.S. got hurt because of him. He resents it.

 

Skeleton #1 passes AB/AP the satchel and the psychotic song rummages though it until he grabs all three cubes from the inside. He smirks, dropping them back inside. “Good job, Pete! Keep ‘em. Now, I’ll make this even more interesting for you tomorrow. Today was easy, right? Get ready for the next few ones.”

 

Pete slumps a little on the chair, giving up squirming around the bounds. “I’ll do whatever. Just promise me you won’t kill G.I.N.A.S.F.S.”

 

“I promise,” AB/AP crosses his heart and shows Pete his crossed fingers, then raises his axe a bit. “if you can get the fourth cube without having any injuries, that’s what. Sleep for tonight. I’ll send you a message when you wake up.”

 

“How the fuck can I sleep if you-“ Pete didn’t get to finish his sentence when AB/AP knocks him out cold with the blunt end of his axe.

 

AB/AP shakes his head, dropping his axe and untying Pete’s bounds. He orders Twin Skeleton’s to patch G.I.N.A.S.F.S. up and bring him back to his quarters, while he’ll take Pete to his bedroom. He puts Pete under the covers and lingers there a bit.

 

He lightly kisses the man’s forehead, “We’re doing this for your own good, Pete. You’ll go home soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was a long shot, I don't know if anyone would actually read this but I wanted to post it out here. It's not my first time writing and posting it, since I was from Wattpad but that site is toxic so I moved here and hopefully it won't be as bad. If you did read it, I hope you enjoyed. Thank you! 
> 
> \--tricky


End file.
